A Winter's Tale
by Zarabethe
Summary: Two weeks after their baby is born, a chance statement by Mae causes Kalibose to relive some painful memories. In the Scepter Continuum.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Well, this happened. I was supposed to be working on Scepter Two and instead this shows up on my document, completely unbidden. Looking at about 7 ish chapters, give or take. Some long, some short. This gets a little dark, people.**

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Kalibose's hands, Mae decided, were the most attractive part of her mate. His fingers were long, squared off at the ends, and could be both delicate and strong at the same time. The tattoos of arcane symbols that centered over his knuckles and ran down the first segment of his fingers lent an exotic and powerful look to them. They glowed, when he was working a particularly intense spell. It was to his hands that Mae had felt the first twinge of physical attraction to him. His hands could wrought great destruction, or they could be as gentle as a child's. He seemed self-conscious of them-when out in public, he kept his hands tucked into his sleeves or in deep pockets. Even when visiting his brother, they were often hidden away, although not as much recently. Only at home did he pull his sleeves up, take his overcloak off, keep his hands out of his pockets.

Mae had not thought to ask about this idiosyncrasy of his: after all, Kalibose had been through so much, even more than he had spoken to her about. And there was always stuff to do and think about: why the grocer down the corner seemed to burn bright in her vision when she passed him, for instance, but only when he was outside sweeping his front walk, never inside at work. Why her sister-in-law always seemed to have this sickly bronze aura about her that no one else noticed. What kind of threads bound people together, some strong and tripping others in their paths, some floating on delicate spider webs. And even more confusing than that, which were relevant to her daily tasks and her possible future. The fate of a tiny spider that she avoided when walking out the door to the apartment building most likely did not effect her in any way, and yet she had caught a glimpse in the corner of her mind of a tabby cat's teeth and claws and what she assumed was the spider's demise. Before, the little trickle of fates and futures were easy to ignore: now they were the worst, and sometimes the loudest. That tabby cat would go on to have three litters of kittens, before eventually getting ill and freezing to death in the alley behind the florist's shop. All of this, as soon as she gave it the tiniest bit of notice, filled her head at once, and it was only after two separate people had tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she were alright, or if they needed to fetch someone, did she realize she had been standing half outside the apartment building, her hand still on the door, her eyes blind and staring and the other hand limp at her side. She had started, tried to laugh it off, and hurried on her way, but she knew, as much as she couldn't help overhearing the gossip in the reagent store, that people in the neighbourhood talked about her. She tried not to let it bother her, but when someone in the grocer's avoided her eyes, or when a neighbour returned her greeting with a strained smile, it wore her down. She wanted to bring peace to people, not distrust.

There was a slight pressure on the back of her head, so gentle that she didn't even startle when she realized it was there. She blinked a few times, then looked up to meet the eyes of her mate. He smiled his quiet smile at her, and smoothed her hair, now that he saw she knew he was there.

"I couldn't tell if you were sleeping or just deep in thought. Would you like me to take Amaryssa?"

She glanced down. She had been feeding the baby, whom had dozed off in a contented sleep, then she had spaced out. She felt it would probably be safer to hand her off to Kalibose to put in her bed, but she was so warm and comfortable in her arms. So grounding. She shook her head and sat up straighter.

"No, I'll keep her a bit longer. She's happy where she is." She leaned down and gently kissed the two-week-old on the forehead. She sighed in her sleep in response, and Mae rested her cheek against her soft one for a moment. She had waited for years for this. She was going to savor her every moment that she got. Kalibose nodded his head at her response, already distracted back to his own devices. He donned fingerless gloves and his heavy cloak, before sitting down at the kitchen table to lace up his heavy boots.

"I'm going to run downstairs and see if Lissa needs anything before I come in at noon. Now you do remember that she is coming over tonight to meet the baby?"

He paused to look her in the eye, as if he thought that she had already lost interest in what he was saying. Mae looked at him curiously. Had she been so distracted lately that she couldn't even participate in a conversation? She remembered that Lissa was coming over. Although, she couldn't remember if she had planned anything to cook, or if she was wearing proper clothing, or if the diapers needed washing first...

Kalibose continued on as if she had answered him in the negative. "Lissa will be here around 7. She is bringing supper. I will pick up some bread while I am out. Do you need anything else?" This time, the look he gave her was worried, and she tried not to give him a worried one in response. She mentally sorted through what she thought was in the kitchen and kept her voice as chipper as possible when she answered.

"Honey, for tea please." The relief in his eyes was subtle, but the enthusiasm with which he kissed first her on the forehead and then Amaryssa, was genuine.

"I'll be back soon." The last thing he did before he left the apartment was tuck his hands, although covered, into his sleeves.

Mae could feel the draw of zoning out again, and determined to fight it, shifted Amaryssa in her arms and stood up. She still felt a little weak from giving birth, even two weeks later. Brekke had mentioned that it was a hard labor, although what Mae knew was that it wasn't the labor that had given her trouble that day. She brought Amaryssa up to her shoulder and patted her softly as she strode into the kitchen. There had been tea earlier in the morning, but it had gone cold. With a little bit of creative shuffling, she got another pot set on the stove, and paced the kitchen slowly as she waited for it to boil.

Now that she got the idea of how attractive her mate's hands were in her head, it was hard to get it out. It was strange, really, Mae thought as she leaned back against the counter, the idea of finding a person physically attractive. Not that she wasn't attracted to people. In fact that had been her problem in her youth: people were amazing and wonderful and every single one took her heart with their personality. From her first crush on a pretty girl staying at the inn in Astranaar at 15, to everyone in between, she only saw the glow of their aura and wanted to see more. Kalibose had always been a little special though-she was attracted to more than just his personality. Which, she thought as she took the whistling kettle off the heat and added tea leaves, was probably a good thing, as he was often prickly to be around and could be unpredictable in his moods.

Amaryssa wriggled in her arms and Mae answered her as if she had spoken. "Yes, your Daddy can be a right grump."

Mae bounced her as she glanced around the little kitchen. All the dishes were done, the towels were folded and put away, even if they weren't completely even. The floor was swept and the trash had been taken out. Even if Kalibose was a grump, he tried to do right by them. For all of them. Mae fixed herself a solid mug of tea, adding in plenty of honey (which, she discovered to her satisfaction, was nearly gone) and balanced both it and the baby carefully as she went back through the house. She passed the table, the tiny living room, and went right for the bedroom in the corner. If Amaryssa would sleep, she probably should as well, after her tea. She tucked the newborn into her cradle and sat down on top of the comforter, sipping her tea thoughtfully. She didn't tell Kalibose enough that he was appreciated. She made a mental note to remember to do so this evening, after their company had gone.

Lissa's visit was a happy one: she was a good family friend at this point, not just an employer. She brought a lasagna, and Mae had pulled herself together enough to make a lemon cake, and dinner was pleasant. Having people in their space was inherently stressful though: more than once Mae caught Kalibose fidgeting with the candle flame or a napkin on the table, only to stop abruptly and shove his hands in his pockets. She was almost as relieved as he was when Lissa left, and sighed as she closed the door behind her. Kalibose had already disappeared from sight, and a few moments of searching found him standing at Amaryssa's cradle, watching her sleep. He stood quietly, his hands braced against the wooden side, his face unreadable in the low light. She came up to him and put her arms around him and he shifted to put an arm around her, although he did not lift his head.

"It is strange, how much peace she gives you. It was not something I expected."

Mae nudged him in the side. "You can pick her up. I won't tell."

Kalibose shook his head. "She's sleeping. Looking is enough."

They stood in quiet for a few moments, until Kalibose seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. "We should probably pick up from supper."

There wasn't much to do, after all: three plates, three forks, a quick sweep. They sat at the table afterward, and Kalibose still had a melancholy look on his face. Mae took a sip of her tea, and reached across the table to take his hand. He startled, as if he had been falling asleep.

"Thank you, by the way, for taking care of everything these couple weeks. I appreciate you so much."

As she spoke, she stroked one finger along the side of his hand. She had been hoping to bring him back to a more pleasant mood, but instead he stiffened up and she thought he was going to yank his hand away from hers.

"What are you doing?" His voice was strained, and Mae immediately stopped and held his hand loosely in hers.

"I was just going to ask you, what the story was behind the tattoos on your hands. I've always thought they looked so neat." Was it her imagination, or did his face pale? He withdrew his hands from her grasp and immediately tucked them into his pockets.

"It's a long story."

"The baby is asleep, we have time." Mae had no idea what his problem was. She had touched his hands before, in innocence and in passion, and he hadn't withdrawn from her like this. Or had he? Suddenly she couldn't remember if she had touched him in this manner before, or if he had avoided it. She felt a pang of guilt as Kalibose stared at the table.

"We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

She said it gently, and it did the trick: he brought his head up to look her in the eye. There was conflict in his eyes, and with some difficulty, he spoke.

"Give me some time to think on it, alright?"

"Alright."

Kalibose glanced over toward the bedroom where Amaryssa was still sleeping. "Are you finished with your tea? If so, we could go to bed early."

Mae smiled as she finished the last sip. "We can, if you want to."

His eyes still held a bit of that vulnerable look as he nodded his head. "I would like that."

It was only after all the candles had been blown out, and the night was safe under a cover of darkness, did he remove his hands from his pockets to wrap his arms around her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Since the reviews weren't working for a few days, I'll put comment replies up here.**

 **Ihsan: Characters do not grow unless you feed, water, and torture them regularly-you know that.**

 **Mae and Kalibose each have their own issues, but they will always be there for each other, even when it gets difficult. No worries there.**

 **Guest: No idea who you are but I appreciate your enthusiasm!**

 **Den of Meade: That's a very good theory about Zarabethe. You should reflect on that. Also Scepter 2 will probably be pushed back a little since this turned into a big project.**

 **Whew! What started out as a one-shot is now 10 chapters. Hold on to your chairs, we're going to access some tragic backstory in this fic and it's not going to be pretty. Going to update 2x a week for a couple weeks and see if I can get it to stick. Pics for chapters are up on my deviantArt, username zarabethedraws.**

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Almost right on cue, Amaryssa woke at midnight. Kalibose woke first, and was out of bed before Mae could even make a noise. He spoke to her quietly as he changed her diaper, then handed her to Mae to eat. Mae tucked her into bed with her to nurse, and Kalibose sat on the bed beside them both for a moment. Mae stroked the baby's head as she ate, and Kalibose was just in awe of how peaceful his entire existence was at this moment. Quiet, midnight, his favorite people in the world content and safe. He rested a hand on Mae's hip, just to ground him in the near-pitch dark. She brought her hand up and rubbed it over his. It normally would have been nothing but comfort (he was sure that was her intention) but earlier it had triggered something deep inside of him, that he hadn't thought of in years. His breath caught in his chest, and after a moment, he patted her hip and moved his hand back to his own lap. He sat there, quiet and tumultuous, until he heard her faint whisper.

"Kal? Are you coming back to bed?"

Her voice was thick with sleep, and again he patted her as he answered.

"I will soon. Go to sleep."

She made a sleepy noise, already mostly there. He got up, and felt the world tilt around him. His mana was getting very low. That might be why these memories were surfacing tonight. He went to the closet where he now kept his staff locked up. He had never decided whether he thought exposure to the arcane was harmful to a child or not. All his research seemed to indicate it was benign, but some personal anecdotes pointed otherwise. He had finally had a talk with K'vaat, who told him that it probably wouldn't hurt anything, but it wouldn't hurt his feelings to stay out of the way. And so he voluntarily abstained, for the first time in his life, from magic-using. It made him grumpy. Being at low-mana for a long period of time wore him out and he didn't like the feeling of weakness, right when he felt he needed to be on top of his game the most. But there was still that twinge of anxiety, that he could somehow hurt Mae while pregnant or the baby after she was born, and so K'vaat stayed locked away until he needed him. And tonight, with his memories loose inside his head, he needed him.

As quietly as possible, he opened the closet door, and pulled the anti-magic cover off of his staff. K'vaat glowed dully purple, illuminating the closet without being too bright to wake his family. Kalibose put his hand on the staff and instantly felt better: the rush of mana filled in the burnt out edges of him and eased his frayed mind. He could think, he could be present in the moment, and his anxiety was soothed away. He had been frugal, and he hadn't needed to visit the naaru since before Amaryssa was born. Not quite ready to release his mana-source, he leaned against the door frame of the closet.

"Thank you, my friend."

Never one to beat around the bush, K'vaat's answer was more direct.

 _Perhaps if you would speak to your mate about your anxiety, it would help her understand._

Kalibose glared at the crystal. "How come every time I think I've missed our conversations, I'm reminded why I stay aggravated at you all the time?"

 _Your memories of Merrick will not lay to rest until you talk about them._

"Stay out of my fucking head, you worthless rock!"

Kalibose dropped his staff, and haphazardly threw the cover back on it before slamming the door shut. He felt a trembling start deep in his stomach, and before he could stop it, his knees felt weak and he stumbled backwards to the bed and sat down. His hands shook so hard he couldn't grasp anything, and he sat with his eyes closed, willing them to stop and not knowing how. Presently the mattress creaked, and he felt Mae lean up against his back in silent support.

"Where's Amaryssa?" His voice sounded husky to his ears. Mae pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before answering.

"She's right here."

She moved to sit beside him, and placed the sleeping infant in his arms. He cradled her as best he could, holding her against his chest, and soon the shaking stopped. He sighed in relief, taking in the calming effect of his daughter sleeping in his arms, of Mae leaning against him with her arms around his waist. They grounded him, brought him back to the present. He took a few deep breaths, and handed the baby back to Mae. She put her back in her crib, and when she got back, he turned around so they could face each other on the mattress. He took her hands, and let her rub her thumb over his palm. He swallowed hard and held one hand up.

"This is not just a tattoo. It is magical runes, to enhance spellcasting."

Mae nodded, waiting. He found it difficult to continue.

"It was-it was not placed there by choice."

Mae's eyebrows knit together and he fought hard not to run right there, to vacate the room and the apartment and backpedal so hard he was in last week.

"I'm not sure where to start on the story, so I guess I will start at the beginning."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: And now we get into the meat of this thing. For references: Kalibose was banished when he was 15, and this takes place directly after he was rescued from Stonetalon. Illustration of Merrick up on deviantArt.**

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 _BEFORE_

"Here, put this on it."

Cold was pressed sharply on the burn, burning him again in the extreme temperature change. He bit his lip as hard as he could to keep from crying out. Merrick's voice was sharp as he tended to Kalibose's wounds.

"Stop whimpering, it will only make it worse for you."

It was pitch black in the room off the laboratory, but he felt Merrick pull him towards him, and his face being pressed into his shoulder to muffle his pained noises. His fingers still burned with an unnatural heat: backlash from an arcane blast had ignited all the flesh on them and it didn't seem possible that that much pain could come from just his hands. Kalibose didn't even bother with whimpering-he sobbed outright into his fellow apprentice's rough robe. Merrick held him, rocking him back and forth, stopping periodically to scold him.

"Crying won't make it better. You've got to be tougher."

Kalibose nodded as he tried to choke back his tears. The pain in his hand slowly faded into numbness, and so did the ache in his soul.

Merrick was younger than him by at least a year, but he had been here two years longer, and Kalibose let him boss him around from the beginning. He was the only other apprentice who spoke to him. The others were older, more advanced, and only out for themselves and to see who would become the next favorite. Merrick snuck him food the first day, a blanket the second, and by the third was whispering hints to him as they scrubbed out burnt cauldrons out behind the laboratory.

"Mannerel likes his apprentices to look fair, but not too fair. Don't draw attention to yourself. And never, ever..." Merrick stopped scrubbing for a moment to look him in the eye. His hair was so dark it was almost black, and his eyes shone out of it like lasers. Kalibose later found out that he had been addicted to the arcane since the time he was six years old.

"Never," Merrick started scrubbing again, "accept an invitation to visit him by yourself. Take me with you, if you can."

Kalibose had stopped scrubbing ages ago, his hands raw from the task and his body still weak from his withdrawal. He swallowed hard, and pushed his dirty blue hair out of his eyes.

"He wouldn't kill me, would he? After taking all that effort to rescue me?"

Merrick gave him a look that he quickly got used to seeing—condescending with more than a little pity.

"There are things worse than dying." Merrick paused his work, then picked up Kalibose's steel scrubber and put it back into his hand, forcing him to continue.

"And there are things that will make you long for death with every breath. Keep your head down, do your work, and stick by me. I'll get you through it."

Archmage Mannerel liked more than his apprentices to be fair of face. He liked them quick, untiring, subservient, and to jump to volunteer to assist in his experiments, which could be at any time of day or night. He was an arcane mage, and also a sadist, although it would be years before Kalibose would hear of the word or know what it meant. Archmage Mannerel liked to see just how far he could push a person, just how much pain he could inflict, before they lost their mind. This was far from where Kalibose worked though. For the first few weeks Kalibose did nothing but run-he ran to get reagents from the supply closets. He ran to clean up chemical messes. He ran from his bed to splash water on his face then ran to his first assignment. He ran to catch other apprentices and help carry them to the medical ward. He despaired, when he had more than a second to think, how in the world he was going to learn anything at all except how to simply stay alive, which he considered himself only mediocre at.

One night after collapsing into his bunk, he didn't fall asleep immediately. Instead he was distracted by a flickering light in the bunk above him. Weighing his curiosity against his aching muscles, finally he pulled himself up to peek into the top bunk. There sat Merrick, copying arcane symbols by a small conjured light. Kalibose watched him for a few seconds before he spoke.

"How are you getting any teaching? I can barely keep up with my chores."

"I watch." Merrick continued his writing without looking up. "I memorize spells Mannerel uses and I recreate the symbols later until I get it perfect."

He finished drawing the circle, and it glowed blue before burning out. Merrick sighed deeply, and Kalibose could see blue reflected in the pupils of his eyes briefly before he closed them. After a second he opened them again and they had returned to normal.

"Energy spell. Gives you a quick boost to keep going."

Merrick looked at him solemnly, his eyes pools of light. The words he said next stayed with Kalibose for a long time.

"You are never going to get anywhere waiting for someone to teach you things. Listen, observe-take the information for yourself and make it yours. No one else can do it for you."

Merrick dropped his eyes and scratched his quill against his parchment. To Kalibose it looked like he was only making tickmarks, but each one glowed as he made it.

"If you need a place to practice, you can climb up here. Mannerel will be less likely to see you on the top bunk."

It took a few weeks, but soon Kalibose could see exactly what Merrick was talking about. Archmage Mannerel didn't exactly hide his spellwork. The beginnings of his incantations had basics in other schools of magic. Kalibose learned to produce water, then freeze it, then worked to master flame. He spent most nights up in the bunk with Merrick, huddled under the same conjured light. If any of the other apprentices noticed them emerging from the same bed half the time, no one mentioned it. Things went along this way for awhile, until the day that Kalibose broke into the arcane.

It was a bad day all around. Archmage Mannerel was trying out a new, complicated spell and it kept backfiring. Two apprentices had already been escorted downstairs, one of which had been burned so badly Kalibose could not see how he would recover. Kalibose and Merrick were crouched in the shadows, trying to avoid their master's wrath, when the mage barked out an order for another volunteer to assist in a circle. The other apprentices were busy with other tasks or were already in the circle. Merrick was scribbling something into the dirt over and over, and Kalibose glanced his way before standing up and stepping forward.

"Well, come on you worthless sacks of skin. Show me who is worthy to study under me—Ah, Kalibose!"

Kalibose heard a muffled gasp of horror along with "No!" behind him, but he kept walking. Merrick was the only friend he had in this horrible place-he couldn't stand the idea that he would be caught teaching himself magic, when he had already taught him so much. The Archmage was gesturing to him to come join them on the platform, and with shaking steps, he made his way to the top.

Archmage Mannerel was tall, and evidence of what years of addiction would do to a burly man. His bone structure was clearly for a bigger person, but his eyes and skin were sallow and shrunken in. His hair was long, white, and thinning, and his robes were expensive but faded. His eyes were more than a little unhinged and Kalibose tried not to cringe as they focused on him and his thin lips drew back in a slow smile.

"Ah, our newest friend, Kalibose! I can see that Merrick has been hiding you from me." Archmage Mannerel looked past him to where Merrick was clearly crouched in the corner watching. Kalibose's heart sank into his stomach—he had been trying to draw attention away from his friend, and he had done exactly the opposite. "I shall deal with you later, young sprite. And now for you, Kalibose, let's take a look at you."

The Archmage limped toward him and peered down into his face. At this distance the stench of the man hit him like a wave—foul breath, unwashed skin, the sickly sweet smell of some kind of herb or drug, and mana. Mana leaked off of him like radiation. It turned his stomach to be so close to him and Kalibose clamped his mouth shut, determined to not embarrass himself. The Archmage circled him slowly, plucking at his apprentice robes, turning his face back and forth, and a gesture that he couldn't help but jump at, ran a hand through his hair.

"Not bad, not bad. Too much of a nose to be truly beautiful, but big, clear eyes, that I can work with. You have experience?"

Kalibose had to clear his throat so he could speak. "Y-yes sir. I mean, I have practiced some before I came into service."

The Archmage seemed to approve of his quaking voice, and nodded as he turned back to the circle. "Well, come then, let's see what you've got. Kalibose, you stand here between Lorenath and Darien, and I hope you know that if you break the circle, you will be severely punished."

Kalibose took hands with the two much taller apprentices beside him while the Archmage strode to the center. He was too on edge to even look to see who he was standing next to: he instead focused on merely staying upright and everything the Archmage was doing so that he wouldn't mess up. The Archmage began the spell, drawing complicated images in the air with his hands. Kalibose immediately felt a power surge in his hands, and he gasped, feeling his entire body yearn toward the electricity that was the mana being raised to perform this spell. The air crackled around him, and the ground shook as Mannerel's voice rose higher and louder, but Kalibose did not fear it. In fact, he felt a distant sense of _rightness_ : as if this were something that he had talent in, but had forgotten. He wanted more of this; he wanted this only.

The spell rose higher and higher, and at its peak, exploded around them. Sparks rained down on the apprentices and several cried out and dropped hands with the person next to them. An apprentice to the right of Mannerel was screaming, his robe on fire. Mannerel turned and looked at him with no emotion, and when no one ran to grab him, doused him with a layer of frost. Two people ran from the shadows to pull him back to the medical ward: Kalibose could see that Merrick was one of them. The other apprentice gave him a piercing look before pulling the unconscious apprentice away. Kalibose clung to his neighbour's hands: he was panting, and he felt like every nerve ending in his body was still on edge, even though the energy had faded from the spell. The Archmage had grown very quiet, and slowly paced around the circle of trembling apprentices. Kalibose would later learn that this was when he was at his most dangerous. For now, though, he watched him as he walked and muttered to himself.

"Everything has been worked out exactly. The words, the symbols, the reagents. There is no reason for this to keep backfiring. Unless..." The Archmage stopped suddenly, and brought his hands up to look at them. Like every other part of him, his hands belied the evidence of years of self-neglect and addiction. They were gnarled, bony, and looked barely strong enough to pick up a cauldron, although Kalibose knew better. Mannerel spun around abruptly, and went to each apprentice in turn and examined their hands.

"Weak."

"Too soft."

"Far too ugly. How did I let you in here with hands such as these?"

"Ah."

When he reached Kalibose, he realized he had still been clutching the hands of the apprentices next to him. He made himself release his grip, and brought them forward. The Archmage grabbed both his hands, twisted them around, and held them up to the sickly light emerging from a lamp on a post.

"Absolutely exquisite. You have perfect hands for casting. Come with me. Merrick, you lazy shit, come fill in this gap!"

Kalibose barely had time to look behind him and see Merrick's concerned face before he was drug bodily up to the center of the platform. He could feel a surge of energy as soon as he stepped into the runic circle inscribed on the floor, and despite his fear, that familiar _need_ pulled to him again. This power was made for him to control.

If being examined by the Archmage earlier was uncomfortable, this was near unbearable. Mannerel positioned him so that he was facing the apprentices in the circle, and the mage stood immediately behind him, close enough that there was not even space to breath. He muttered as he brought Kalibose's arms up and held his wrists loosely, and then without warning, there was a piercing pain in his elbow that ran down to each finger, and Kalibose couldn't help but cry out.

"That's the one," Mannerel muttered in his phlegmy voice, and then Kalibose's hands were no longer his. He could see his hands performing the movements that he saw the Archmage doing earlier, and he felt the power drawing up around them: but he was detached from it. He felt a deep sense of violation in his gut as his body performed the magic without his bidding, as the Archmage breathed down the back of his hair, as heat rose around them, and finally, with a triumphant shout from his master, the air exploded around them in a controlled arcane blast in the form of a butterfly. The butterfly flew and dipped around the circle lazily, then alighted on top of Mannerel's head and burst into harmless sparks.

The Archmage flung his head back and laughed, then dipped his head down and whispered into Kalibose's ear.

"Good job, boy. You and I are going places."

He released him, and gave him power over his hands again. Kalibose stumbled forward, overwhelmed by a host of sensations that he couldn't even hope to understand, and without preamble, fainted dead away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: Sorry the narrative parts are so short in this story. It's so intense though, maybe everyone needs it to surface out of it.**

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"Oh Kal, that's awful."

Mae's voice broke through his memories. He realized that his palms hurt-he had been digging his fingernails into his hands, and slowly, he made himself relax them.

"I wish that was the worst part that I was going to tell you."

Kalibose's voice caught in his throat and he swallowed drily. He glanced about the small room, grounding himself again in reality.

"Do you think we could move this to the kitchen? I don't want to wake Amaryssa."

Mae nodded. "I'll go start some tea."

Kalibose's body felt like it belonged to someone else as he unfolded his legs and walked into the kitchen. Even with the boost of mana earlier, he felt his grip on the here and now slipping. He longed to sleep, to let these memories slide back into the Twisting Nether from whence they came, but they did not leave him. Not as he slid a chair out and sat down in the kitchen, not as he lit a candle in the center of the table, not as he waited for the tea kettle to whistle and the tea to be ready. Mae came to the table and handed one mug of tea to him, before sitting down with her own. She had a wool shawl wrapped around her against the winter chill that crept in around the windows, but Kalibose did not think anything would warm him from this cold.

She did not pry him, but she did not need to.

"You know how if you faint, no matter where you wake up, you are disoriented?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: I don't have any pictures for this chapter. Everything is either too difficult to find references for or too disturbing to draw. But I'm not going to cheat you out of a chapter while I try and make a picture.**

* * *

 _BEFORE_

Sometime after the ritual in the main laboratory, Kalibose had been moved to his bunk in the apprentice's rooms. He knew this, because when he was abruptly woken by his face hitting the bare concrete of the floor, the smell of it was familiar to him: dust, years of sweat and grime, and the faint scent of mageroyal that permeated everything in Archmage Mannerel's facilities. This fact barely registered in his brain before hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him to his feet. He stumbled, groaning at the ache in his head and his general confusion. He caught glimpses of the dark robes of his fellow apprentices before someone else, someone much taller than him, grabbed him by the back of his robe and yanked him forward. Kalibose coughed with the sudden restriction of his breath and his arms flailed uselessly as he was drug bodily through the room everyone shared to sleep in, into the communal bathroom off the entrance.

"Get in there, you miserable puke." He was slammed up against the wall hard enough to see black spots in his vision. When it came back, he saw that he was surrounded: three of the oldest apprentices, the ones who were working their way into being the Archmage's personal assistant. The one that was leaning into him now with his forearm, had to be almost as big as his oldest brother. He bared his fangs at him and Kalibose finally found his sense of self-preservation. He couldn't pull away, but he turned his head to the side and tried not to look as terrified as he felt. The memory of this three cousins ganging up on him before his trial haunted him as the other night elf chuckled deep in his throat.

"Not so big now, are you?" Kalibose remembered the man's name, Tiranen, as he put his hand around Kalibose's throat. Kalibose dug his fingernails into the man's giant fingers, gasping for air as Lorenath put a hand on the taller night elf's shoulder.

"Easy, Tiranen. If we kill the Archmange's new pet, it will put us further down in the rankings. We can't afford that."

Tiranen loosened his grip on Kalibose's neck. Not trusting him for an instant, Kalibose slid his fingers in between the man's hands and his bruised skin to make a bigger space as he gulped in breaths of air. The third apprentice, Darien, grabbed a handful of Kalibose's hair and yanked his head back even further until the rough concrete burned where it dug into his scalp.

"The Archmage is only interested in his hands, right? That's what he said."

Tiranen smiled, showing all his teeth. Kalibose felt a dawning horror in his gut. "That's right. Little kiss-ass isn't pretty enough for him. He won't notice if we mess up his face a little."

* * *

Sitting on the damp ground in the communal bathroom, smelling stale urine and mildew, was decidedly worse than laying on the floor of the dormitory. At least then he'd been unconscious. Now he was in too much pain to tune out the world. His entire face felt like it was broken: the other apprentices had ended up pulling their punches, he could tell, but they had hit him until they had gotten it out of their system, and he knew he would be feeling it for days. Both of his eyes were swollen nearly shut, and blood was running out of his nose and mouth. His teeth, thank Elune, appeared to be all intact, even if a few felt looser than before. More than his physical injuries though, his current state disconnected him from reality enough that all he could do was sit there and think. And there was too much today to think on.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop reliving the afternoon in his head: the pain in his arms, like they had been severed, then watching someone else manipulate magic through him. He shuddered at the thought, slowly at first, then uncontrollably. He hunched over his queasy stomach and tears burned as they forced their way out of his bruised eyelids. The magic itself: the feel of the energy moving through him and the power that it promised, had been indescribable. It almost hurt how much he wanted to feel that again. But not at the price of his autonomy.

The bathroom had been empty most of the late evening. He didn't know whether the other apprentices had heard the beating, or if they had been warned away by the three that attacked him. But now, he heard the door creak slowly open. He thought, somewhere in the back of his head, that maybe they had changed their minds and decided to come back to kill him, and that he should possibly do something, like hide or run. But even shifting position enough to sit up straighter hurt so much that he just closed his eyes and tried to breathe a little softer. He couldn't fight against anyone in this condition. He heard a limping step, a minute whimper, and Kalibose wondered who else the trio had gotten a hold of in their anger. Steeling his breath, he forced his eyes open. It hurt terribly, and he could still only see through slits. He could see the back of an apprentice's robe, short like his, and whoever it was stood bent over with their hands braced against the sink, staring at the slowly filling basin like it held all the answers in the world. Feeling his curiosity overtake him, Kalibose leaned forward, trying to make his eyes see better. A sharp stabbing pain went through his head as the world tilted under him, and he groaned as he stopped all movement.

"Kalibose?"

He pried open an eye to see the other apprentice had of course, heard his whining and turned around. Merrick was still hunched over, but he was staring at Kalibose as if he wasn't positive who he was. Kalibose at least had the good sense not to try to nod his head.

"Yeah."

Merrick raised one eyebrow, elegant even in his pain. In fact, the entirety of his face seemed to be free of injury, a fact that was not lost on Kalibose despite the pounding in his head.

"Lorenath?"

It was somewhere at this point that Kalibose felt embarrassed at sitting on the floor in a bathroom in front of his only friend, and he decided some pain was worth regaining a little of his dignity. Digging his fingernails into his skin, he made himself stand, wobbling in place before he grabbed the wall.

"And Tiranen. And Darien."

Merrick nodded. "I saw them rush out of the laboratory in a snit before I—left."

The pause between the last two words was not lost on Kalibose, who found it easier to be upright and standing than he thought it would be, now that he had a distraction. Realization dawned as he looked Merrick over: obviously in pain, but no apparent injuries.

"The Archmage punished you."

Merrick shrugged. "I knew he would. It was my own fault, really. I was hiding you too well. But you," Merrick stood a little straighter, and pointed at his face, "You should have known better than to volunteer. I warned you."

It was Kalibose's turn to shrug. "Yeah, you did."

They stood there, the silence in the room growing. Merrick was the first to break it. He straightened himself with some effort, and his limp was less pronounced as he crossed the room to put his shoulder under Kalibose.

"It's after midnight. Forget this, let's try to sleep some of this shit off."

Both of them slowly made their way out of the bathroom, each leaning on the other. As they went Kalibose saw Merrick's footsteps from when he came in. Each one was smudged with red. Kalibose pointed it out as they left the bathroom and closed the door behind.

"You're bleeding somewhere, Merrick."

Merrick stared at the footprints, his eyes disturbingly vacant. Just as Kalibose was about to shake him to get his attention, he answered in a voice that was as distant as his eyes.

"Must have stepped in it on the way in."

Merrick slipped out from under Kalibose's arm so quickly the night elf nearly lost his balance. Without pause he was climbing up the ladder into his bunk.

"Tomorrow's cleaning day for us scrubs, don't forget."

Kalibose stared at the spot where Merrick had disappeared into his bunk, and with much moaning, got into his own bed. He arranged the flat pillow and blankets around him, and finally just lay there, his mind still reeling. He closed his eyes, seeing the world spin around under this eyelids. The last thing he thought of, before he finally drifted into the oblivion of sleep, was how the red footsteps seemed to get darker, not lighter.

The next day was just as awful as he thought it would be, at least until he figured out how to conjure frost on his face to reduce the swelling. As he spent almost the entire day in the back among the burnt and soiled magical implements, it was easier to keep icing his face without anyone taunting him for it. The other apprentices, Merrick included, were all subdued. The events of the day before had affected everyone. As Kalibose picked up a bowl inscribed with the same runic circle that was in the center of Archmage Mannerel's casting platform, he traced a finger around it and felt a tiny zing of residual energy. It made him feel that inner need so badly he wanted to throw up. He hastily set the bowl down and picked up a different one to scrub.

By the next week, however, it was back to business as usual. He and Merrick hung out in the shadows and watched the oldest apprentices fall over themselves to see who would be picked to help in the Archmage's circle. He went back to observing the casting and practiced when no one was around. His grasp on both frost and fire magic was getting better: he could now conjure a small flame like Merrick could to see by, and he frequently turned the beakers in the lab to ice when no one was looking. But the arcane, what he truly wanted to learn, always eluded him. He mentioned it in passing to Merrick one day, who gave him a hard look and stopped his obsessive copying of runes into the dust of the tables.

"Mannerel only uses arcane runes in his rituals to hurt people."

Kalibose felt his face grow cold, and avoided the subject by flicking his fingers at a small fire under a glass receptacle. It blazed brightly, and then exploded, the contents of the container flying off into the air and vaporizing. He and Merrick ducked down, trying not to giggle at the apprentice trying to put out the fire and cussing about his ruined reagents.

Life as an apprentice wasn't always about sneaking learning and jumping to do grunt work. Now that the Archmage saw the potential that using someone else to work spells through held, he tried it frequently. He sometimes singled out other apprentices and attempted spells with them, with mediocre success. Almost every time he returned to Kalibose. Kalibose was ashamed to admit that it started to bother him less and less. The beginning, where his will was taken away, hurt and terrified him, but feeling the magic move through him, usually in the form of arcane, was addicting and he wanted it like nothing else. Afterward, when the power was taken away, was the worst part now. He would sit on the ground, winded and used, feeling empty as the product of the casting was apparent to everyone but completely unobtainable to him on his own. He started to think that maybe Merrick was lying to him that Mannerel tortured people with his magic. All the spells that he helped work might not be morally aligned, but no one was injured. The worst by far had been to manipulate the mind of an elderly man and control him as one controlled a puppet. Mannerel had made him walk around the circle, waving to everyone and making the younger apprentices laugh. Eventually he released control and the man collapsed. Kalibose didn't see what happened to him after that, but he didn't think he died from it.

It was months later, that things started to change. The spellwork that Mannerel did through him was becoming more intense, and Kalibose was getting bored with being used. He started trying to influence the course of the magic in the middle of the ritual. It had no affect, until one day, in the middle of building an enormous complicated glamour of light and shadows in the middle of the laboratory, Kalibose thought it might be funny to put a picture of something obscene in the center of it, just to screw it up. It was only a chance thought, but he must have thought it during a moment that the Archmage had been distracted, because all of a sudden he felt Mannerel tense behind him, and the arcane flooded up his arms and Kalibose got a hit of the sweetest, most pure mana he had ever experienced. It almost knocked him down it felt so good, but his ecstasy was quickly overtaken with horror. In the center of the glamour, drawn in with crude lines of light, a piece of the male anatomy was being made. The exact one he had thought a moment before.

Kalibose heard gasps and muffled laughter around the laboratory as he desperately tried to erase the evidence of his rebellion. Mannerel seemed to have trouble regaining control of the magic-the drawing continued, over and over, until it was the only part of the glamour left. The Archmage growled in frustration behind him, and without warning withdrew his control. All of the magic fled Kalibose in a rush, and the glamour with its offending part disappeared. Kalibose saw black spots as the Archmage, showing the strength that defied his emasculated body, picked him up by the collar and held him right in front of his face, bathing him in his foul breath.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, dicking with my ritual."

There was one extremely short snort of laughter as an apprentice behind them temporarily lost control of himself. The Archmage scowled even harder.

"We will remedy that."

He threw him down, and Kalibose watched him stalk away. The other apprentices dispersed, forming small groups and talking and laughing among themselves. Merrick came into his vision, offering him a hand up. The look on his face was indecipherable.

"You either have the biggest balls of every single person here, or you are the stupidest person alive."

Merrick shook his head as he pulled him to his feet. "Hope you enjoyed living."

The rest of the day, Kalibose thought it would be prudent to worry about how he would be punished. At least that's what he thought he should be worried about. Instead he couldn't get the feeling of how intense, how amazing it was to have been filled with the arcane, if only for a few minutes. It was fortunate that no one saw the Archmage the rest of the day and he was able to ignore the rest of his duties: he was too distracted.

Merrick declined practicing spellcasting that night, so Kalibose was lying in his bunk, still awake and thinking, when a shadow loomed over his bed.

"Get up, Kiss-ass, you've been summoned."

Lorenath's voice sounded pissed off. Kalibose tried to keep out of his way as he followed him out of the dormitory and down the stone hallway. At the end of the corridor, instead of turning left into the laboratory like always, Lorenath led him through a narrow archway that quickly turned into a staircase. Up they went, until Kalibose lost track of how many steps there were. By the time that they exited the stairwell and then went back left, Kalibose realized they must be above the laboratory proper. It was very dark up here without lighted alcoves, and the only way to see was from a muted burgundy curtain at the end of the corridor that obviously was lit from within. It was to this door that Lorenath led them.

Kalibose heard the muffled sound of voices as Lorenath pushed the curtain aside and held it open for him. With much trepidation, he entered the room.

Although it was lit sparsely with yellow-toned oil lamps, it was still much brighter than the hallway, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did, Kalibose was surprised to see there was a number of people in the room. Various apprentices, personal assistants, and fellow high-ranking mages were sprawled about the surprisingly lavish room. More horrifying to his fifteen-year-old mind though, was the fact that most of them were in various stages of undress. He stopped abruptly and stared at the ground, petrified at what was going on in the Archmage's personal rooms and even more petrified at the fact that he had been summoned here as well.

"Well, isn't it the man of the hour himself? Come here, Kalibose, we've been waiting for you."

Kalibose flinched, but to his immense relief it was a clothed arm that grabbed his and drug him away from the doorway. He stared at the bottom of the Archmage's robes as he was pulled through the room, past activities that he couldn't even process in his adolescent brain, and through a doorway that he had missed on his first glance about the room. A fire was lit in a sconce, and Kalibose finally lifted his head. While the room before must have been the Archmage's entertaining room, this was his true inner sanctum. The room was very obviously a mage's workshop: there was another runic circle on a platform exactly like the one downstairs, only smaller. There were magical symbols inscribed on the walls and shelves of reagents. There were a few noticeable differences though. Instead of rows and rows of tables with alchemical tools, there were only a few tables set up outside of the dais. And instead of beakers and fires, they had restraints.

Kalibose felt a deep sense of foreboding as the Archmage dropped his arm and rummaged through what looked like an enormous desk made of oak. He wondered, for one wild second, just how far he would get if he started running, but then he saw Tiranen and Lorenath enter the room as well, and stood at the doorway. Kalibose gave up on running and tried not to be ill as the Archmage started to speak.

"Your little stunt earlier might have been funny to you, but it cost me several rare reagents that will be difficult to replace." He stopped his searching and held up his prize in victory: Kalibose couldn't tell what it was from across the room, but appeared to be nothing more than a thin needle. He caught a glimpse of Mannerel's eyes as he strode over to the nearest table. They were even more unhinged than normal, with even less emotion on his face. Despite the two hulking apprentices at the only entrance to the room, Kalibose took a step backward.

"I can't have you ruining any more of my experiments, Kalibose. So I am going to fix the situation." Mannerel nodded his head at Tiranen and Lorenath, who were already moving to stand behind Kalibose.

"Restrain him."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: Today is my birthday! For my present, have a chapter in which I torture a character :D**

* * *

"This outer circle here," Kalibose traced the tiny runic circle inscribed on each knuckle of this left hand, "was to prevent me from breaking through the puppetry spell." It was surprising how blase he was to his tattoos now, when the acquisition of them had been so traumatic. Mae's face looked white as she gingerly touched the tattoos, as if they were still fresh and hurt him. He indicated the inner circle that was so small and intricate only magic must have put it there.

"The inner circle was to enhance my speed and accuracy in casting. As it was encased within the first circle, I couldn't access it, only Mannerel."

"Can you use them now?"

Mae's voice was tiny, barely over a whisper. Kalibose nodded slowly.

"Yes, but that would come with time."

He sat for a moment, looking at his own knuckles and the tattoos that gleamed in purple ink on them as bright if they had been put on last week. There had been so much that had happened in Eldre'thalas, and most of it during his first year. It was hard to decide where to go next, to keep the story coherent. He dug around in his memories that shoved to the surface like so many corpses raised unwillingly from the dead.

All of a sudden he took a good look at his mate across the table. Mae was sitting hunched over her mug of tea, but she wasn't drinking it. Her face was ghostly pale, and her mouth was pressed into a line while her eyes looked far away. For a moment he was terrified that she was having a vision, even without any warning signs, and he was halfway out of his chair before the rest of his brain caught up. He sat back down, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat.

"Mae, does it bother you to hear this?"

She looked up at him, her eyes unreadable in the shallow light of the lone flickering candle on the table.

"Of course it does, Kalibose. I am listening to how the love of my life was abused and tortured while he was still a child. But," and she forced a small smile onto her face, that broke his heart, "if it is this hard for me to listen to, then how hard is it for you to keep it inside? I don't want you to stop, Kalibose. Tell me the entire thing, and then we can both heal from it."

Her face was so beautiful in the still light of the moon, and he stared at the table so he didn't have to see how his words hurt her.

"The tattoos hurt. They itched and burned for days, and for some reason, Merrick was really angry about them and wouldn't speak about it, so I had to keep it to myself."

"Why would he do that?" Mae interrupted. Kalibose shrugged.

"I think, even though he saw all the pain I was in, that a small part of him was jealous at the extra power I had been granted."

He snorted humorlessly and took a sip of his lukewarm tea.

"We were both, after all, addicts first, before we were friends."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: I apologize for the tardiness of this update: most of the kids and I came down with this horrible bug that just knocked everyone on their rear. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I am not responsible for any shipping it causes.**

* * *

" _You don't get to speak, you dirty junkie."_

 _Someone was hurting him. It was Valanor, but this time he was bigger, and wore apprentice robes. His face already felt like he had been hit, and now he went for his hands. His cousin squeezed his wrist so tight the bones protested, but all he could do was cry. Great, humiliating tears ran down his face and he couldn't fight back. Valanor took a needle that was comical, it was so big, and stabbed it directly into the back of his hand. Kalibose screamed, and even that sounded weak to his ears. Another figure materialized behind Valanor: his father, Galenoth. His eyes blazed brighter gold than any druid's had a right too, and he sneered at him as he took the needle from his son's hands, and plunged it into Kalibose again._

" _Ugh, you can smell the stench of the arcane from here."_

 _As abruptly as they had appeared, both father and son vanished. Kalibose dropped to his knees, his hands bleeding excessively, far more than two small stab wounds would inflict. Kalibose choked on his tears, watching his life ebb away and soak into the ground._

 _One final figure appeared before him. His father, bigger and more menacing than the aloof druid had ever been, stepped forward. He was impossibly tall: his head seemed to reside among the clouds and his head was backlit with the brilliant sun. Tenethor Woodstalker bent his head and spoke casually to his son, as if he were not beaten and bleeding to death on the ground._

" _I think the only honorable verdict in this case, is Banishment."_

" _Please, father." Kalibose found his voice, however pathetic and tiny it was. He tried to grasp the bottom of his father's robe and his hand slid through it as if it were made of air. "Please father, I promise I will change, please don't make me leave, this is all I have-"_

 _Tenethor kicked out at him. His robes might be ephemeral, but the sole of his boot knocked him flat on his backside. He bent over, blocking the light of the sun completely and casting Kalibose in shadow. The Council Leader's face held no emotion at all._

" _You are no son of mine."_

"Kalibose!"

He woke, gasping, punching at thin air and trying to run while laying flat on his back. Merrick avoided his flailing with a moderate amount of success and caught both of his hands tight and locked them down at his sides. They stayed that way, Merrick looming over him like a shadow, Kalibose staring up at him trying to catch his breath and remember the circumstances of reality for several seconds longer than was comfortable.

"I'm sorry," Kalibose began. He tried to slow his pounding heart, but he was starting to get distracted by the intensity on Merrick's face as he stared at him. "I didn't mean to hit you."

"You didn't."

Kalibose didn't understand why he continued to hold him down like that, and experimentally flexed against his grip. Merrick didn't budge. He stumbled into an explanation, not even sure himself if that was the issue, and if it would also help his swirling emotions.

"Before I came here, I was Banished-"

Merrick let go of his hands abruptly and put one hand over his mouth. Kalibose stopped talking more out of surprise and sheer confusion than anything else. The other apprentice shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"No history. I don't want to hear about where you came from, who your family is, or what your past is. And I'm not going to tell you mine. We are both here for the same reason: to learn the arcane. All that matters is where we are right now, and what we are doing about it."

Still he did not move. The weight of him pressing into him was warm and not entirely unpleasant, but the look on his face was starting to worry him. Kalibose felt that things had shifted between them and something he didn't understand was going on. Like with every other new experience, he panicked.

"Uh, Merrick?" He stammered against the other apprentice's fingers. "Can you move your hand please?"

Merrick leaned away from him finally, releasing his mouth. Merrick gave him the most exasperated, condescending look he had seen thus far, and climbed back up into his bunk.

Kalibose lay there for a long time afterward, feeling as if he had missed something terribly important and a little afraid of what it was.

The very next night though, only a few moments after the candles had been blown out, Merrick hung his head over the edge of the bunk. The other apprentice had been conspicuously absent from laboratory work that day, and Kalibose jumped to see him so suddenly.

"Want to try out some real magic tonight?"

"What kind?" Every other transgression forgotten, Kalibose jumped out of bed and started to climb up the ladder to Merrick's bunk. Merrick met him at the top and pushed him until he started back down.

"Not up here, stupid. Somewhere we won't be caught."

Kalibose jumped to the ground, cringing at the sound, but everywhere he looked in the bunkroom, apprentices turned their heads or were already asleep. That was something that he was figuring out: the apprentices usually did not group up or make friends. Even the three lead apprentices vying for top position would betray the other two at a thought. But in the bunkroom, where the archmage never went and they had their only privacy, they were more likely to turn their heads to what the others were doing. Kalibose thought about this as he followed Merrick down to the adjoining bathrooms. He often heard things that he would roll over and stuff his head under the pillow at. He knew that in the privacy of the darkness night terrors were rampant, people spoke in hushed tones to each other, and some explored their feelings underneath comforters thin enough to let in the chill air. But no on ever mentioned anything in the dawn's light: each person went on as if nothing happened, and so did he.

Merrick led him straight to the end of the communal bathrooms, to the last stall, then went into it. Kalibose paused outside, thinking he missed a vital step here, until he saw Merrick's head above the top of the stall door and realized he was climbing up the toilet to get to the tiny window shoved in the back corner of the room. Kalibose only had time to utter a confused noise before he saw Merrick push out a pane of glass that had obviously been loose before, and opened the window outward.

"Come on, I've only fallen a couple times. It's not that bad," he called to him as he stuck his head outside.

Kalibose watched as the other apprentice wiggled his way out the window and then sat on the ledge. Balancing, he got up onto his feet, and took a step sideways into the blackness of the outside. He glanced around the bathroom: no one was about or could see them. Shrugging helplessly, he pulled himself up to follow. The way was a tighter fit for him: he was skinnier than Merrick, but taller and with bigger feet. They almost tripped him up at the end, and Merrick, just out of sight on the parapet positioned above them, grabbed the back of his robe to keep him from falling. Kalibose let loose a terrified shriek and grabbed the edge of the window tight enough to feel the skin on his new tattoos pull, but slowly he maneuvered his feet outside to stand on the ledge and with some help, climbed up on the parapet next to Merrick. Kalibose hung onto the wall, panting, staring down into what looked like an inky black abyss below them.

"You're crazy."

Merrick gave him one of his ultra-rare, manic grins. "No, I'm amazing." He turned and flung his arms up into the gathering clouds above him, barely visible against the dark of the night. "I'm a genius!"

Off in the distance, dull lightning lit up a few clouds and Kalibose shivered as a slight wind picked up and blew his hair around. What time of the year was it anyway? How long had he been locked up inside Archmage Mannerel's facilities? A few months at least, by his calculations. The air that went into his nose was chill, as if it brought the edge of a wet winter storm. The air around smelled damp and with the undercurrent of dense vegetation. There was little visibility though-he could see massive stone walls, and multiple ledges and parapets identical to the one they were on, all seeming to go on into the misty night air forever. After a few moments of reveling in the freedom the night brought them, Merrick noticed Kalibose still staring out into the dark surroundings and joined him at the ledge.

"How long have I been here, Merrick?" There might have been something in his voice that showed his distress, because for once he did not tease.

"Seven months, 20-ish days, give or take a few." Merrick lifted his eyes, so bright in the dull night. He scanned the horizon, possibly seeing more than Kalibose could hope to in the murky atmosphere. Kalibose couldn't even wrap his brain around that answer: it was like Merrick had spoken gibberish to him.

"How?"

Merrick didn't answer him directly. "Goes fast, doesn't it? Two years for me, and it's like I've been here my whole life."

Kalibose picked at a loose spot of rock on the parapet, sending rubble tumbling down into the void.

"Is there a way down from here?" It wasn't anything more than a choice thought, not any kind of idea formed, but Merrick caught his meaning. The other apprentice leaned over the ledge much farther than Kalibose dared, taunting the misty depths below.

"Not in the dark there isn't." With an exaggerated swing of his legs he was back upright. " We could try coming out here in the day, try to scale the walls if you want. But realistically, there is nothing down there except ogres and jungle for miles."

Merrick's tone of voice didn't change, but his eyes refused to meet his.

"Who would want anyone such as us, anyway? Where would we go? There is nothing out there."

The other apprentice seemed to reach a decision, because he grabbed Kalibose's hand and talked animatedly. "Now come on, I have something to show you."

Kalibose let himself be drug around the ledge and caught a better glimpse of their surroundings. This was obviously not the first time someone had been up here. The area was covered with detritus: some of it magical in nature, like rubbed out arcane circles and broken reagent bottles. Then, some of it so mundane it looked like it belonged on another planet-an old ball with a sketched out game on the concrete, a weather-worn but still possibly functional kite, and in dusty collections in the corners, empty alcohol containers.

Merrick led him across the ledge and then pushing two crates together, up onto the next similar parapet. There was more trash up here, but what immediately drew his eye was a blue light glowing dimly at the far edge, half-concealed under a moldy tarp. Kalibose pushed away from Merrick and ran ahead, drawn by the familiar, nearly-tangible thread of desire that hung on the air. He stopped right in front of the tarp, almost afraid to pull it off.

"Is—is that what I think it is?"

"Yes it is."

If Kalibose had been paying attention, he would have noticed how uncharacteristically happy Merrick was acting—there was only a hint of cynicism in his face as he hurried to join Kalibose in front of the circle. He grabbed the tarp and pulled it off with a flourish. Completely uncovered, the runic circle reflected blue on the crates around them. He took in a breath of wonder.

"Did you make it?"

Merrick was so close he felt the air move when he shook his head. "Nah, I found it. I had to fix the edges a bit, so it would activate properly. Isn't it great though?"

"It is incredible."

It was a mana circle. It was a runic circle that was tapped into the ley lines and would provide a steady (if not huge) flow of mana for working spells. Kalibose wanted to immerse himself in it so badly he could hardly stand it, but he made himself stop.

"Have you tried it out yet?"

Merrick again grinned at him, and steadying himself, jumped into the circle with both feet. Kalibose felt the energy surge in the air, and unable to contain himself, followed suit. Immediately he was bathed in energy so amazing that all he could do was laugh incredulously and spin around in a circle.

"Look at this!"

Merrick lifted his hand, and whispered "fierio". Light burst out of his fingertips as if he were holding a firework. Kalibose shrieked with glee and immediately copied the spell. The magic came effortlessly to his call, warming his spirit and performing each task that he requested of it. They stayed there far into the quiet hours of the night, crammed up each against each other in the tiny circle, making more and more elaborate illusions and spells. By the time they were nearly falling asleep standing, and agreed to find their way back to the bunks, Kalibose had all but forgotten his desire to see the outside world.

* * *

"Hey, quit hogging all the mageroyal. Pass it here."

Merrick's bleary eyes glared into his, and he shoved a coin-sized portion of the herb his way. When he didn't give him anymore, Kalibose reached across the table and stole a huge handful. Merrick started to fight him for it, then gave it up.

"Get your own, jackass. Are you eating it over there?"

"No, I'm just distilling it faster than you. What are you doing, sleeping?"

"Stuff it."

Merrick's answer was muffled as he dropped his head into his arms. They had been spending every night out in the mana circle, and it was wearing on them both. This morning, they had been so exhausted they had retired only a few hours after going out, and both of them had collapsed onto Kalibose's bed, not even having the energy to separate or climb the ladder. Unlike every other morning where they had woken up in the same bed, someone had teased them about it this morning. It was a mediocre apprentice, a tall gangly youth older than Kalibose but less talented. Merrick had set the bottom of his robe on fire, but first he had shoved Kalibose away from him so hard Kalibose thumped to the ground, and both of them were still sore at each other.

This morning's task was potion-making. Once or twice a month, all of the apprentices gathered at the alchemist's stations and did nothing but brew potions all day: health potions, mana potions, love potions, haste potions, potions to make you bigger or smaller or look like a Tauren. Kalibose wasn't sure, but he thought that they must supply the entirety of the planet with how many potions that they produced on those days. That was the only logical explanation he could find: he never saw any of the potions after they were carted out into the supply room to cool and settle. Someone else must take them out of the city.

The work was hard, but uneventful. At least it was, until the door to the lab slammed open with a terrific bang. Kalibose jumped, not even trying to hide his surprise. All around him, heads popped up from the tables to see the Archmage, his face an apoplectic shade of purple, stomping into the room.

"Merrick!"

Kalibose could see what little color there was drain out of Merrick's face. The Archmage didn't pause, but strode loud enough for his clomping footsteps to echo off the ceiling right through the aisles of alchemical stations. As he got closer to them, he continued his ranting.

"You insignificant, unrepentant, THIEVING-"

Kalibose had never been a brave person. Although he had been known to punch his cousin in the face once or twice for being insufferable, he only did it because he knew he wouldn't really hurt him back. As it was, he would never understand what made him jump up, and climb _over the table_ , scattering mageroyal and knocking over beakers, to try to get in between the Archmage and Merrick. The Archmage barely even registered him—he backhanded him back across the table without even using magic. Kalibose saw stars as he slid back down to the floor on the other side. He grabbed the counter and pulled himself to standing, still trying to get to Merrick, whom the Archmage had by the throat.

"Let him go!"

This time the Archmage did turn to acknowledge him. Using an incantation that sounded like a mix between a hissing cat and an expletive, Kalibose was slammed down onto the table flat onto his back. Kalibose's vision grew warped as he tried to fight against the immense weight that seemed to flatten him onto the surface. The sheer blank terror on Merrick's face seemed to fill the entire room and he realized he was yelling, trying with everything he had to break free of the bind that the Archmage had put on him. Rushing blood filled his ears and head as the weight pressed him downward and deprived him of oxygen. The Archmage was whispering in Merrick's ear, and Kalibose tried again to free himself, even as he felt consciousness start to slip from him.

"Kalibose."

How he heard Merrick's voice, when he spoke so quietly and deadpan, was a mystery to him. He stopped fighting against the weight and he found he could catch a breath easier.

"Stop it Kalibose, you're such an idiot. Leave me alone and don't follow me."

All of a sudden the weight was gone. It was not needed though, as Merrick's words pinned him down to the table just as efficiently as the spell had.

"But-"

Merrick's face was terrifying. It was completely blank, a pale oval with deep set silver eyes, framed by a cloud of almost black hair and held in place by the Archmage's hands: one loosely around his throat, and the other on his shoulder. For a moment, Kalibose thought that the Archmage had completely taken control of his friend, that he was speaking through him, when Merrick's face stiffened up into one of his condescending looks.

"But nothing! Just leave me alone! I don't need your help!"

The Archmage let go of Merrick's throat. Stiffly, the apprentice turned around and walked out of the laboratory, holding his head high. The Archmage kept pace behind him, shadowed by Lorenath, Tirenan, and Darien, who appeared out of nowhere. Kalibose laid still on the table, panting, trying not to feel the dark fear that was growing in the pit of his stomach.

Merrick did not return that morning.

He did not return that afternoon.

Kalibose had no idea how in the world he was expected to fight over scraps of supper and then go to sleep in his bed, but somehow he did.

Some time in the small of the night, Kalibose was woken up by a thumping sound, followed by a loud curse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

It was Tiranen.

"He's faking. Kick him in the head."

That one was Darien.

"Just pick him up and toss him in his bed. If you miss, then it's his own damned fault."

The last was Lorenath. Kalibose cringed, half expecting to hear the sound of a body hitting the floor again, but Tiraneth was a beast of a man for being a mage, and it was easy for him to pick up the underage apprentice and put him in the top bunk. Kalibose froze, holding his breath until the three older apprentices left the room, the smell of spirits in their wake. As soon as the door closed, Kalibose was out of bed and up the ladder.

"Merrick?"

The other apprentice groaned and hunched into the shape of a C. Kalibose crawled up the bunk to him, trying to make as little movement as possible. He didn't think the other apprentice was going to answer him, and as far as he could see, his eyes were screwed shut as tight as possible. Kalibose remembered how to snap and make a small flame, and he did so, just to make sure that Merrick wasn't hurt too bad.

"Do you remember," Merrick's voice, raspy and defeated, startled him, and he instantly felt bad for it, "how I told you to keep your head down, that you didn't want the Archmage to like your face too much?"

Kalibose nodded, too numb to answer properly. Merrick nodded as well, as if he was answering for him.

"You are lucky the Archmage only wants your hands. Because he has always wanted my face."

Kalibose realized with a start, that Merrick's face was completely free of injury. Not one bruise marred his fine cheekbones, not one bloody spot on his full mouth. Kalibose held the flame closer trying to discern his injuries.

"How-" Merrick shook his head and swatted on hand at him. Kalibose put out the flame, irritated but feeling something horrible, something that he felt he should understand and yet he didn't.

"It doesn't matter how I'm hurt. Just be grateful for your hands."

Kalibose sat for a moment, listening to Merrick's laboured breathing and feeling lost.

"Will you be okay?"

"Someday."

And then because he felt as if the world was too big and he was far too small, he curled up right behind Merrick, buried his nose in between the other boy's shoulder blades, and listened to him breathe until everything was too overwhelming and he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: In which Mae asks the important questions.**

* * *

There was a piercing cry from the other room, the one that usually only came after beginning whimpers were ignored. Mae shot up out of her chair and was in the bedroom before Kalibose had even fully realized where he was at and what was going on.

Kalibose sat for a moment, listening to Mae in the room next door. He felt as if he were in a completely different world, trapped between time and space, and Mae was the only one in the apartment that was real, that was alive. He flexed his hands, trying to return feeling to them. He wondered if this was how a bronze dragon felt: always slightly out of sync with the current timeline.

"Kal?" Mae called quietly. He shook his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose as he forced himself a little further into the real world. He made it to the door of their room, but instead of entering, leaned against the frame. Mae was sitting on the bed pulling a clean shirt over Amaryssa's head. The newborn was squirming, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"She wet through everything. Can you change her bed?"

He left the stability of the door frame and entered their bedroom. He did not fall through time and space, and so he continued on. He pulled the sodden sheets and blanket out of the crib and dropped it into the diaper pail. He picked up the tiny mattress, fluffed it, and then turned it over before tucking another sheet on it. They could wash it in the morning when it could be dried in the sun. Kalibose felt a tickling at the back of his neck and turned to find Mae watching him with a curious look on her face. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, nursing Amaryssa, her eyes narrowed in his direction, and there might have been a hint of a smile on her face. For the life of him he had no idea what he was doing that was so amusing.

"...what."

"I have a question."

"Okay."

"You haven't told me about Merrick before."

"That is not a question."

There was definitely the beginning of a smirk on Mae's face as she gave him the look she usually did when he was being particularly stubborn.

"Why?"

He couldn't help it: it had been thirty-four years since his banishment, he was in a steady, secure, relationship, and felt like a completely different person than the boy that had crawled through the wastelands of Stonetalon and hid from harpies, shaking from withdrawal. But sure enough, he felt the beginnings of a blush creep along his ears and head toward his cheeks, and he crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

"This isn't a period of my life I like to think about, Mae," he answered grumpily.

"I know that, Kal." Her voice drifted back to him, quiet and gentle, and he instantly regretted his attitude. He scratched the back of his neck and tried to ignore the flush that was unmistakable and the old, hollow feeling in his chest.

"Merrick was...complicated. I mean who knows what the fuck you are doing at 15 and 16, no matter what your situation. Merrick was a safe spot in a terrible place. We were each others' safe spot. There really isn't a word for that, and I can't think of him without thinking of what happened afterward and what it meant."

He took a shaky breath, feeling the emotion threaten to spill out of him and trying to hold it back.

"So, yeah, I've tried really hard to forget about him. To forget about all of this."

He came and sat down next to her on the bed, and gently smoothed away the wrinkles on Amaryssa's forehead as she concentrated on eating. Instantly his mood softened, just by her proximity. By Elune, how had he ever lived without her before? It was a few minutes before Mae broke the silence.

"Merrick was the first person you ever cared about, wasn't he?"

Kalibose nodded slowly. "Yes. And he's gone."

He wrapped his free arm around Mae's waist and pulled her closer to him. "But you are right here. That is what matters."

He rested his chin on top of her head for a few minutes, just reveling in the quiet of the middle of the night. He wasn't sure if Mae had fallen asleep or not, but when he started speaking, she raised her head.

"Things got a lot harder after that night."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: I apologize for the delay in this chapter. We have gone through a massive IRL life change which included me getting a new job, and it really sucks up a lot of my time. I do not intend on leaving any of these stories unfinished though, even if it takes me a while to do so.**

 **I wish I could promise something more than misery in this chapter, but it would be a lie. I don't know if I will make an illustration for this chapter, everything is so depressing about it.**

* * *

 _BEFORE_

"You have to give it more, Kalibose."

"I can't!"

Kalibose's voice squawked unintentionally, but there was nothing he could do about it. He and Merrick were trying to package a huge spell, an explosive arcane blast, into a tiny ball, set to go off when it hit its target. It was a very difficult spell, and one that they wouldn't even attempt if they didn't already have a rune circle hidden on top of the parapets of Eldre'thelas. As it was, they'd been out here working on it for hours, and Kalibose didn't think they were going to be able to get it. The spell was too volatile, the casing too flimsy, or maybe they were just completely out of sync with each other. Kalibose tended to have more power: his spells could do more damage, but for Merrick, the mana came to him as easy as breathing. His spells were quick, light, and could wear a person down easily if they were not blocked correctly. Sometimes their differences was advantageous: they could fit into each other's weak spots. But tonight, all they did was clash. Merrick tried a hasty adjustment to the magical casing to the spell and growled at him in frustration.

"You are standing in the circle, Kalibose, all the mana you need is right—ah!"

Kalibose's control slipped and the spell blew up on top of them. He was flung backward and knocked his head sharply against the stone floor, his vision temporarily narrowing into black. He laid there for a minute, trying to catch his breath, watching the clouds move slowly across the night sky. For being in the middle of the jungle, it was chilly tonight: there was a fresh breeze blowing in off the towers, and Kalibose wished he owned a warmer robe. Or a scarf, or proper pants, or anything else at all, really. Across the circle and much farther than he expected him to be, Merrick groaned and lifted his head.

"I give. We're doing something wrong."

Kalibose pushed himself up to standing, not about to let Merrick get up before him. His vision wavered momentarily, but he ignored it and walked the few feet into the runic circle. He stood for a moment, renewing his mana supply, before heading to the other side of the parapet to help Merrick up. The apprentice in question saw him coming and glared daggers his way as he quickly pushed himself to sitting. He stopped there though, and held his head as Kalibose approached.

"Go away, I can get up. I think that last explosion gave me a concussion. Give me a minute."

Kalibose waited.

It had been a couple weeks since Merrick had been taken by the archmage and then been returned, broken, bleeding, and with considerable less sass than when he left. The first two days he had not even left the top bunk. The third day Kalibose woke to find him sitting on the bunk waiting for him. He was breathing hard, obviously still in pain, but the look on his face was all grim determination.

"I think," he had stated, almost in a whisper, "that maybe we should focus our independent studies on ways to protect ourselves."

Kalibose had sat there for a moment, stunned into silence, wondering if somehow they had returned the wrong boy to the bunk above him.

"You mean, against the archmage?" he had asked, realizing immediately how stupid his question was. But for once, Merrick didn't make fun of him. He nodded, keeping his eyes down on his hands locked together in his lap. They were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again just to clear his throat. Finally he spoke, his voice still rough and quiet.

"I can't-I don't-" he stopped, and Kalibose realized that he himself was very near crying, and horrified, tried to sniff his own tears back. Merrick shot a look at him and seemed to get himself back together.

"This can't happen again. Not like this."

Kalibose didn't even recall thinking about moving, but he was up out of the blanket and to his friend's side immediately. He wasn't sure what he was going to do: hug him, sit next to him, comfort him in some way, but he was there, and he settled for putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Merr-"

Merrick turned on him, slapping his hand off his shoulder and half standing abruptly.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me!"

The anger roiling off of him was palpable. Kalibose leaned away from him as Merrick grabbed the side of the bunk and held himself standing, stabbing a finger at his face.

"I don't want your pity. And I don't need you to baby me! That's not how this works, Kalibose."

Kalibose couldn't even wrap his brain around what "this" was, anyway, or what had caused his sudden anger. Merrick took a shuddering breath and dropped his hand.

"I just need you to help me strategize. I just need your mind, okay?"

Kalibose had cleared his throat and nodded his head quickly, not even sure what he was agreeing to.

"Okay."

He still tried to help him out, at least at first. Even now, after Merrick was mostly healed, he kept an eye on him that he could manage by himself. Merrick had learned though, and if he saw him trying to help, he would push him away or yell at him. And so Kalibose waited for Merrick to shake his head, pinch the bridge of his nose, and then push himself to standing, wobbling a few steps before gaining his balance back. He stumbled his way back toward the runic circle, and took a deep breath as his mana replenished. He crossed his arms in front of him against the sudden wind that whipped around them and only then did he meet his eyes.

"Well, now what?"

Kalibose ran a hand over his eyes wearily. It was the middle of the night, after several nights of trying.

"Let's just go to bed, and maybe we'll think of something tomorrow."

Their climb back to the bunkroom lavatory was disheartened. It was not often they met with failure at their magical endeavours, even with such advanced magic. Especially when their tries felt more desperate, colored by the increasingly overbearing gaze of the archmage. There was only quiet between them as they trudged across the dark communal bathroom and Kalibose did not even jump ahead of Merrick to get the door.

As soon as Merrick pushed the door into the backroom, it was grabbed out of his hand and yanked open all the way. Kalibose startled out of his reverie to see Merrick flying forward under an unseen force and Lorenath's voice booming out of the quiet of the bunk.

"Wait, you're the wrong one. Where the fuck is your boyfriend?"

Kalibose rushed into the bunkroom just in time to see Merrick being thrown to the ground. He bristled with anger, momentarily forgetting that Lorenath was a far superior magician. He snapped his fingers, then grew the flame into an orb and threw it at the taller apprentice's head. Lorenath snorted and caught the flame in a ball of ice that quickly evaporated into nothing.

"Nice try, Kiss-ass. Ice mage though, have to try harder."

In the few moments of that exchange, the other apprentice had gotten to his feet, apparently unharmed. Kalibose's relief was short-lived however as Lorenath grabbed him by the back of his robe and took off in the direction of the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

"Now come on, asshole, you're being summoned."

Kalibose's stomach was sick with dread as Lorenath stalked down the hallway, up the staircase, and toward the Archmage's rooms. The familiar low light and warm atmosphere that had been present in the first room was missing tonight. Kalibose wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not as Lorenath did not pause but drug him through the room and pushed back the curtain to the Archmage's inner sanctum.

Unlike the last time he was here, the room was lit up with torches in several sconces on the wall. All the restraining tables had been pushed to the side of the room, except for one. Kalibose didn't notice at first though: his attention was drawn by the small gathering of older apprentices lulling about on the platform in the center of the room. There had to be six or seven of them, which was a much different setting than when the Archmage had forced his tattoos on him. He recognized them all as the highest ranking apprentices: the trio that had such a problem with him, and even older apprentices who no longer had to vie for position. Those he did not see often: rumor had it that they had their own special rooms up on the second floor with the Archmage's rooms. They all looked bored, anticipatory, and the Archmage himself, as he strode toward him, seemed more keyed up than usual.

"Finally, finally, where the hell were you?"

"Hanging out with that other little puke, Merrick." Lorenath sounded bored of the procedure already, and sauntered up to the platform ahead of them. Kalibose's eyes followed him as he joined the other apprentices milling about, and just as the Archmage grabbed his upper arm and drug him forward, finally realized what it was that occupied the table center stage.

Or, rather, whom.

There was a boy strapped in the restraints on the center table. Or at least Kalibose supposed it was a boy, the child was too young to have an obvious gender. All he saw was long teal hair, violet skin, a loose tunic hanging off of thin limbs and a sallow, bruised face that was impossibly young. Younger than he, or Merrick, or anyone else that had any right to be trapped inside the walls of this place. He felt his breath hitch in chest, painful and tight, and then impossibly, he had slipped from the Archmage's grip and was running.

He didn't have a plan, a focus, or any thought in his head. All he knew was that whatever the Archmage needed him for he wanted no part of. Vaguely, he was aware of shouting, and then he hit a solid wall where he was sure there had not been one before. He stumbled, dazed, and then he was seized from behind.

"Good try, Kiss-ass."

Lorenath barked a sharp laugh from somewhere behind him. Kalibose struggled desperately against the man holding him as he was drug bodily over to the dais. The Archmage patted him on the head affectionately as he was brought over to him, and Kalibose shook his head, tears spilling out of his eyes. He could hardly conceptualize the horror that was unfolding in front of him. A sob caught in his throat as he felt the archmage position himself behind him with one hand wrapped around his chest, holding him up from the weakness in his knees. He felt the familiar burning jolt of pain and numbness in his arms, and just as he closed his eyes, he heard the boy begin to scream.

* * *

They missed the first time they tried to throw him on his bed. His head impacted the sideboards, Lorenath cursed loudly, and then he was shoved unceremoniously on top of the mattress. He lay there quietly, already cried out and dry. As soon as the door closed to the bunkroom, there was a rustling above him. Kalibose rolled to the side miserably. Within moments the weight shifted on the mattress and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Kalibose?"

"Leave me alone, Merrick."

"Well you appear to be in charge of your speaking capabilities, at least."

Kalibose had intended on keeping the events if the upper rooms to himself. He had made the resolution as he was being drug downstairs, quiet and ashamed, telling himself that he would go to his grave before he admitted anything. But as soon as the other boy spoke, even to make an off-hand comment, the truth began to spill out of him.

"There was a boy up there, in the Archmage's rooms."

He felt Merrick freeze behind him. Kalibose took a deep breath, but the tears he had already cried were sticky in his throat and it was hard to breathe. Robbed of his only fortification, he continued, his voice sounding as if it came from another person.

"He was little, smaller than you. The archmage-"

He paused, and Merrick grabbed his shoulder and yanked him over so that he could see his face. The other apprentice's face was pale and his eyes were intense.

"What did you do?" He shook him and Kalibose jumped at the emotion in his voice. "Tell me Kalibose, _what did you do?"_

All of his tears had been cried out, but as he cringed back from his friend, he felt a gaping hole forming in his chest. In everything that had happened, never had Merrick blamed him for anything that the Archmage had forced him to do.

"I-I didn't mean to, it was the Archmage, he had this spell he wanted to try out-"

Merrick grabbed his ear, pinching it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger. Kalibose gave a sharp cry and finished the rest of his confession in a rush.

"He wanted to torture someone without leaving external marks or lasting damage. He made me do it again and again until I threw up all over the platform. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Merrick let go of his ear, losing some of the intense look on his face. Kalibose curled around himself, and even though nothing came out of his eyes, he dry sobbed against his pillow.

"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to have to hurt anyone."

He felt a hand on his shoulder again, but this time it was gentle. Kalibose knew he should cringe from it: the other apprentice's moods vacillated so unpredictably, but he was so empty of everything inside of him capable of making good decisions. He closed his eyes as the other apprentice rubbed his back and slowly, his shaking ebbed into nothing.

"Sometimes I think about dying, just so I wouldn't be here anymore."

He said it quietly, mostly to himself. He didn't think Merrick had heard him at all until, after a pause, he responded.

"You can't think like that, Kalibose. Dying is giving up. You have to fight it. No one is going to save us except ourselves."

Merrick grew still behind him, and in the aftermath of the evening, Kalibose started to slip into sleep. At the edge of consciousness he barely heard the other boy mutter to himself.

"We just have to come at it from another angle."

* * *

"A protection circle?"

Kalibose had no idea where Merrick had come up with an actual spellbook, and he knew better than to ask. He thumbed the pages filled with intricate runes and felt residual energy tingle in his fingertips. Impatiently, Merrick took the book from him and flipped to the back section.

"Yes, a protection circle."

He laid the book out flat. Different circles of varying degrees of efficacy dotted the page, with precise instructions crammed into every available margin.

"Making a weapon wasn't working. Maybe the answer is to prevent the archmage from getting to us at all."

Setting up the protection circle was difficult. It dealt in magics that they had never tried before: not even Merrick, who had grown up around mages. The base of it though, was arcane magic, and even though their efforts to reproduce the circle were mostly in vain, the thrill of working directly with arcane magic, especially in a manner that wouldn't hurt anyone, made Kalibose very happy.

"I don't think this is going to work."

They had found minimal success. Kalibose was standing in a protection circle: but it was only a two foot by two foot area, and he had to keep his arms at his sides to even fit. Merrick had lazily lobbed miniature fireballs at him, and the circle did protect him: as long as he didn't slip up and accidentally let an elbow stick out. Merrick had already gleefully taken advantage of that once, and his sleeve was scorched. Merrick had been reclining against a crate, and now he pulled his cloak up around his long ears and stood up. The night had been long, and the sky was gaining streaks of reddish violet all along one side. It was time to head in and work, either way.

Carefully, Merrick scrubbed out one side of the circle with this foot. The entire spell disappeared in a poof of blue light.

"I agree. Sure, if you were in the circle you'd be okay, but you can't stay there forever. Eventually you'd starve."

Kalibose made a noise of agreement as they climbed back down the stone wall and finagled their way into the lavatory window. The day stretched out ahead of them impossibly long, and their recent lack of progress on any sort of relief made it seem even more depressing. He pushed a hand up through his long bangs and swept them out of his face wearily. He wasn't sure how long exactly he had been trapped inside the walls of this place, but it already felt like years.

Today was more of the same monotony: cleaning the alchemist's utensils for the underlings. Kalibose accepted his steel wool scrubber with a sullen air and headed toward the biggest pile of burnt out cauldrons. At least this work was repetitive and would allow him to think. At least this work was safe.

As he cleaned, he worried over the problems in his mind. Up until the other night, he had kept up a kind of childish hope that eventually things would work out: the archmage would find someone else to abuse. He would become powerful enough that he would get the option to leave. Someone would sweep in and save him. It was getting more and more obvious though, that these outcomes were about as likely as Elune herself coming down to rescue him. He didn't want to be here anymore. Learning magic in this extremely round about way was not worth it.

Kalibose thought long and hard as he scrubbed out pots, and the world fell away around him. He had given up everything for the taste of magic, and now he was willing to walk away from the only place he knew to learn magic. Was it truly because of his moral integrity, or because he was a weakling who wasn't willing to step on a few toes to get what he wanted? Either way, the idea made him sick to his stomach.

Even as deep in thought as he was, he sensed him before he heard or saw him. He was quiet today, unlike the day he came in shouting while they were making potions, but every head in the room turned when he strode in, accompanied as always by the trio of oldest apprentices. Archmage Mannerel was reading a book as he walked in, and looked up only long enough to gesture nonchalantly in his direction.

Kalibose froze for a moment, gripped in fear, and then he was running as fast as he could toward the only exit. What stopped him though, was a sound even more terrifying.

"Leave him alone, you fucking faker! Why don't you trying doing your own spells for once?"

The Archmage's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as Merrick, shaking with anger and more than a little fear, stood firmly between him and Kalibose. Sparks flew along his fingertips, and if the situation were different, if the circumstances were less dire, Kalibose would have been happy to sit back and let Merrick thoroughly obliterate his target, both with his words and his spells.

This was not that moment. Right now, it was a scared 15 year old boy against a very powerful, very dangerous mage. One that had hurt him before. One that could kill him with a single word.

The Archmage descended on Merrick as a slow smirk parted his thin lips.

"Do you really think, boy, that you are that important to me? You are nothing more than a pretty rat found out on the street: you may be fair in the face, but you will always be nothing more than a scrawny rodent."

His voice was lazy, almost disinterested, but his actions belied his quickness as he seized Merrick by the neck and without hesitation threw him against the rickety shelves where the utensils were stored. The younger apprentice hit the shelves bodily, breaking several before falling to the ground. Kalibose was vaguely aware that he was yelling, that sparks were going off around him, that he was seized by several pairs of arms and whacked on the head repeatedly. He fought against it valiantly, shoving against the forces that were trying to move him out of the door. Finally, he saw what he had been looking for: a head of black hair pulling himself to standing. As Mannerel's henchmen finally succeeded in dragging him from the room, his final view of Merrick gave him chills. The younger apprentice stared at the Archmage with the most intense hatred he had ever seen before, a bruise blossoming on one high cheek.

* * *

That evening, when he stumbled back into the shared bunk rooms, his hands bleeding and burning with fresh tattoos, Merrick was no where to be found.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: Four more chapters on this. The reckoning is coming.**

* * *

"Hurry up you lazy oafs, he's freaking me out."

"He's cracked his nut. I've never seen the Archmage so pissed."

Kalibose had stayed up as long as possible: it wasn't hard, with how much his hands ached. The tattoos had hurt even worse this time. He didn't know if that was because he was prepared for the deep sense of violation that he felt after the fact, or if it was because the archmage seemed to press the needle so hard he scraped the bone. All he knew was that he could barely close his hands to grasp anything, and had tossed and turned miserably all night. He must have fallen asleep at some point though, because he had started awake at the sound of the bunk room door being scraped open, and the most bizarre sound to follow it, along with the trio of older apprentices.

Kalibose stayed rolled over on his side, forgetting about his hands for the first time as he listened. The Archmage had returned him in the middle of the night, who was he bringing back now? He thought wildly of Merrick, then dismissed it out of hand. Merrick had been gone when he got back. It wasn't the first time he had disappeared the entire night, and he had a good reason to be hiding this time.

"By Elune will you just shut up? Shut him up, Tiranen."

"Fuck no, I'm not touching him. Not after what happened to his face."

To Kalibose's increasing trepidation, the voices got closer until they stopped right beside his bunk. And the strange sound, although he had never heard it before, suddenly became clear to him.

The person they were carrying was Merrick. And he was _giggling._

"Just fucking leave him here." Tiranen dumped Merrick unceremoniously on the ground next to Kalibose's bunk. He cringed at the sound of him hitting the floor, but the worst part was that it didn't seem to have affect on the low chuckle that kept an eerie dissonance to the normal quiet of the bunks.

Merrick waited for the other apprentices to fully rush out of the room, then pulled himself up until he was sitting, leaning against the bunk. The noise he was making wasn't a true laugh, which is why it was hard to place at first. It was groans, mixed with harsh breaths, and in between them an almost monotonous mirthless giggle in short bursts, as if he was reliving a hilarious memory in his head and every few moments remembered another funny part.

This knowledge did not make Kalibose feel any more comfortable.

The hood was drawn over Merrick's face. Kalibose reached for it at the same time that he spoke.

"Merrick?"

"That stupid..old...bastard."

More of the half-chuckles, grimaces of pain. Kalibose pulled his hand back from Merrick's hood. His hand was smeared with blood. Feeling the panic rise sharply in him, he grabbed the hood and yanked it back from Merrick's face.

He wasn't sure how long he had been screaming when Merrick finally got him to stop. The other boy flattened himself against him, one hand covering his mouth, the other wrapped around his neck, saying things to him in a harsh whisper that didn't even register in his brain.

"Stop it Kalibose, stop it you great idiot."

"No, no, this is better, don't you see? This is so much better than before."

"By Elune you are so fucking LOUD."

"Stop it Kalibose, I did this. I did this, not him."

It was the final one that got him to stop, to actually listen to him. Kalibose stared into the eyes of his friend, of the silver ringed with red around the edges from the blood that had run into them. He thought wildly of trying to wipe it away, then remembered that his entire face was covered with blood, and it would just run in again. He swallowed hard, and did the only thing that he knew how to do when bombarded with emotions. His eyes filled up with tears and his voice cracked as he whispered.

"What happened?"

Merrick stared at him for one minute, then shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the horror show that was his face. "Why are you so hopeless?" He released him, and sat down cross legged on the bed, casual as could be. There was red smeared on his hands, and he absent-mindedly wiped it off on Kalibose's threadbare comforter.

"Can, can I at least clean your face?"

It was hard to see the patronizing look on Merrick's face, but his tone came through loud and clear.

"If it will make you feel better."

Kalibose was out of bed and moving before he even finished his sentence. He dashed to the communal bathrooms, grabbed a rag that looked less dirty than the others, and wet it under the sink. His heart was pounding and his brain was a mess: all he could do was focus on one thing, and that was to take care of his friend first, and let the details fall into place later.

Merrick was in the exact same position as Kalibose left him, and he let him sit right in front of him and gently start to wipe the blood off of his face. For some reason, it was that calm complacence of his, the fact that he was actually letting Kalibose do something for him instead of getting angry or shoving him away, that calmed his outright panic and hone it into a worry that something horribly profound had happened, and he didn't like what it inferred. He cleared his throat, and steeled his stomach.

"What cut your face, Merrick?"

Merrick hadn't been looking at him the entire time Kalibose had been washing his face, but it seemed his eyes were even farther away as he spoke.

"I think we all come to a point where we realize that nothing good can come of the current situation, and it's time to stand up or lay down forever."

His blank tone of voice frightened Kalibose, but when he turned looked directly at him, the look in his eyes was worse.

"He had me pinned, in that red room of his. Not with magic even, he was so arrogant he just held me with his hands. And I realized that this was never going to change. We were going to go round and round and nothing would happen with the way things were. So I changed it."

Merrick reached up and gingerly touched the angry red mark that went from above his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, below his left eye, and staggered off into nothing on his left cheek. He had a vague sense of surprise in his eyes, as if he had just realized the extent of the damage on his face.

"I had slipped a piece of broken pottery in my pocket when I broke the shelves in the storage room today. I brought it out too slowly, he saw that I had it. He laughed at me, laughed in my face, and asked if I thought I could hurt him with that. He already had every part of me. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him no, but I will hurt myself, so that you can't use me. And I did it, Kalibose. I made him stop."

That trace of madness, that blankness that had always scared Kalibose and now seemed more refined, rose up in Merrick's voice and he gripped Kalibose by the shoulders, focusing that strain of lunacy right on him.

"Do you see this? _This is the face of victory_."

Kalibose reached up and carefully ran his finger over the ice blue lines that were tattooed around Merrick's left eye. They were raised, and the skin around them was swollen and hot. It was a magic infused tattoo, but different than his.

"What about this?"

Merrick laughed, and it sent a shudder down Kalibose's spine.

"This? This is the best part."

Merrick tapped the tattoo, and a thin spark ran around the edges of of it, highlighting it on his face. Kalibose flinched, his own brand new tattoos aching in the activity that morning. Didn't it hurt?

"When the archmage realized what I had done, he tried to half-ass fix my face. There are magical ways to stop bleeding, cauterization, and others, but none of them really work well and he knew that he couldn't erase what I had done. So he told me that he would still use me, that I wouldn't be free from him. And then he made me into an amplifier. An amplifier, Kalibose!"

He laughed again, winced in pain, and Kalibose tried not to back up until he wasn't touching him anymore. No matter what Merrick claimed happened in the upper rooms, he could see that there was more going on than physical appearance.

"Don't you see? This amplifier isn't bound to him. _I am bound to no one._ "

Merrick stood up on the bed, balancing precariously and Kalibose shrank back from him, finally free from his grip.

 _"I AM BOUND TO NO ONE._ "

Merrick giggled maniacally until he lost his balance and fell down into a seated position, rocking back and forth with wheezing laughter. Kalibose took another step away from him.

"I have a bargaining chip now. I am getting out of here. I am getting out of here, and all you fuckers can burn."

Kalibose swallowed hard against the hot spark that seemed to have lodged himself into the middle of his chest. For the first time since he had been dumped into this nightmare, he felt like he was truly alone. He knew in his heart the answer, but it didn't stop the whisper that escaped from his mouth.

"What about me?"

That seemed to derail Merrick's rapid descent into madness. He paused, and when he looked him in the eye, Kalibose could see both the sanity return and a veil come down over his face. He leaned over and put a hand on Kalibose's shoulder.

"Of course you too. We'll get you out too."

Merrick closed his eyes and wobbled in place before catching himself.

"I am going back up top. I am drained of everything. We will talk about this tomorrow."

Kalibose sat on the bottom bunk, shivering, wide awake for a very long time.

* * *

Much later than the call usually came, Kalibose was startled awake by shouting in the bunkroom.

"Wake up! Wake up you lazy scrubs! You get the day off, get out of bed."

Kalibose had only been half-listening, but now he sat up and rubbed his eyes vigorously. All around him, other apprentices did the same, and a few of the older ones gave a cheer. Lorenath had a smug look on his face, but there was more happiness there than usual.

"The Archmage has over extended himself and requires a day of rest. You are all free to visit the common areas of Eldre'thelas today. You will all leave through the approved doorway that will mark and count you. You must return by nightfall. So don't wander off, idiots."

Lorenath looked like he had just delivered everyone a birthday present. "Now get out of here, I'm not going to wait on you."

He turned and walked away, and there was a mad scramble as everyone jumped out of bed at once. Momentarily forgetting the events of the night before, Kalibose climbed up the bunk to shake Merrick awake.

"Get up! We get to leave!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Merrick apparently slept with his hood drawn and was sitting up in bed, letting it fall to conceal his face. He sounded, if nothing else, nothing more than wrung out from the lack of sleep, and the madness that had been his companion last night was not there. He started to rub his face, winced, and instead yanked the covers off.

"You haven't been in the common areas yet, have you?"

Kalibose shook his head excitedly. In his constant misery of simply existing, he hadn't even wondered what was in the rest of the compound that the Archmage had his facilities in. It was almost funny, now that he thought about it. The stonework outside seemed to stretch forever, it was stupid to think there was nothing else there. Merrick pushed himself to the edge of the bed and waved him down in front of him.

"Wait for me, I'm going to do something with my face."

Kalibose shivered as he remembered fully what had taken place last night. He watched Merrick's back as he disappeared into the communal bathrooms. When he emerged, his hood was still up but he looked more full of energy. It unnerved him to not see his friend's eyes as he spoke, but he shrugged it off in his eagerness to get on their way.

"There are certain things you have to remember in Eldre'thelas. First of all, there are a lot of easy ways to circumvent the marking process. Do not do them. On a day like today, you want the Archmage to know that you went out with everyone else like normal. Later, I will show you a few of the back doors to get into the commons in secret."

Merrick kept up a steady stream of low chatter as they followed a few other stragglers down the stone hallway to a glowing doorway ahead. Kalibose was pretty sure that doorway had never existed before this day.

"The commons is going to have a lot of different apprentices and different archmages. Alliances between the archmages vary every single day. If someone of power tries to get you to go with them, even if they invoke Mannerel's name, _do not go with them_. Trust no one. Archmages will often trade and steal powerful apprentices between each other, and with your hands, and what Mannerel has undoubtedly talked about you to his peers, you are a target. I will also now be a target. We stick together, we don't go with anyone, we'll be fine."

They paused before the glowing doorway. Kalibose could see at the very corner a purple rune on the wall that emitted a light through a set of mirrors to surround the doorway. Merrick caught him looking at it and pointed to it.

"That's the marking system. It's easy to avoid or block, but like I said, we're not going to do that this time."

Merrick made an obscene gesture at it as they walked through, and Kalibose felt a tingle of energy go through his entire body as he was counted and marked. On the other side, he noticed a purple design on Merrick's hand that looked like a fancy M. He lifted his own hand and saw the same.

"That's Mannerel's mark. It won't protect us, but it would make tracking us down very easy. But we aren't going to worry about that today."

On the other side of the doorway, there was another long, twisty hallway. Kalibose did his level best to remember how it went and the turns they made. This was a way out, and he was not discounting it.

"There are shops and vendors and such out in the commons. Mannerel's mark will get you one meal outside, but nothing else. If you want something, you'll be expected to trade or have coin. So looking only."

Despite Merrick's constant sobering instructions, Kalibose was beside himself with anticipation. This was freedom, even if it was only for a day. He could hear a low rumble of activity in the hallway ahead of him, and he pressed forward faster, leaving Merrick to sigh in exasperation and follow him. Ahead of him was a light. No, that was wrong: ahead of them was _sunlight_.

Kalibose broke into a run the final few steps and stepped brazenly out into the fresh air. The sunlight hurt his eyes, and the air was the frigid chill of late winter, But the hallways opened out into a courtyard that was open to the air above and Kalibose thought he might cry, he was so happy. It wasn't the breathtaking beauty of the terraces of home, the trees and grass were mostly dead, but there were people, and there was laughter and there was talking and by Elune, he could breathe. He stood for a moment, captivated by how much he had forgotten the joy of simply being allowed to go where he wanted to go. Merrick finally caught up to him, and grabbed his hand before the surge of apprentices could drag him forward into the crowd.

"Come on, I'll show you the best places."

Years later, when Kalibose thought about all the best moments of his life, he would first mention the day he had met Mae, the day Mae had told him she loved him, the birth of their daughter. But even though he kept every single memory of his time in Eldre'thelas, and especially those of his first year, locked tightly in the back of his head, he did remember the feeling. He remembered the feeling of fresh wind on his face, of freedom in his veins, of taking in every single sight and smell of a brand new place that he had the liberty to roam, after months of being locked in indoors, and before that, years of living in secrecy. And maybe, if he didn't manage to squash it out of his mind immediately, the feeling of a warm hand in his and excitement twinkling in eyes that seemed too bright for the dark shadows that they hid in.

There was so much to take in, that the many of the details were lost to him. The most he could do was hold on to the path that they had taken, so that he could retrace it later. Merrick led him in and out of scraggly trees poking up trough ruins of the forgotten city, past ancient arcane wards, and finally onto the main thoroughfare that was by far the busiest place he had seen in months.

There were people everywhere. Sometime in the past few months, Kalibose had forgotten that anything outside his imprisonment existed, and seeing all these different people, just walking around and talking and bantering back and forth and even getting into heated arguments, was incredible. He and Mannerel's other apprentices had exited into a lower level, a sort of pit area, that held other apprentices but not much else. Directly to the left was a gigantic ancient stone stair, and it was on that upper level that the vendors were. Slowly, as Merrick wove them through gaggles of apprentices that looked younger than him and definitely less mature, and into smaller clusters of mages and archmages, Kalibose started to get the idea of how the city, if that was what you could call it, was laid out. Almost all of the apprentices came out of that one sunken courtyard, and Kalibose assumed that the exits led straight down into the catacombs, into the laboratories and tucked away places that the highest ranked mages kept their experimental and training areas. Up top, where men and women walked more stately and were adorned in robes and such that showed their rank, contained secret entrances to the mages inner quarters. The vendors dotting the rectangular walkway sold all sorts of items, from rare reagents, to clothing, to exotic pets, and even right there in the open, slaves to purchase.

The last discovery was enough to make Kalibose dig his heels in and release Merrick's hand, and drop his jaw in disbelief. The slave tent was by far the most lavish set up in the entire area: silk scarves of red and purple billowed about in the late winter wind and attracted the eye to the area immediately. It was not the only place of decadence: there were mageweave vendors, places where it was obvious that only an excessive amount of gold was welcome, and carts of ancient spellbooks to buy. There was even a secluded booth backed up to a padlocked covered wagon, manned by two very elegant satyrs, who were selling spices from the front and exotic drugs from the back.

But none of those made Kalibose's stomach turn to ice and catch his breath as the sight of the slave tent. It was obviously a well-established place, due to the casualness in which the other patrons of the common areas strolled around it, even stopping to pat a slave on the head or ogle one that was dancing without shame. The tent was huge, big enough to provide shade to all of the "wares" without being crowded. There was a goblin sitting on a chair that had obviously been built to elevate him in height to talk to the mostly Kal'dorei population in attendance, and he looked as all goblins did-dressed impeccably in silk and brocade, pants and waistcoat and top hat, but oozing greed out of every pore. He was in deep conversation with a female archmage who was dressed head to toe in red and black leather adorned with gold spellthread. The coloring against her dark purple skin and even darker purple hair gave her the appearance of a demon. As Kalibose watched, stricken to the spot, the goblin leaned behind him and barked out an order. Two slaves, willowy night elves that looked as if they had never lived outdoors in their lives, rose from their cushions to attend their captor. They too were also dressed in silks, although much more revealing. They had bare feet, and the male had a bare chest. Both the male and female had flowers woven into their flowing dark blue hair. They looked so similar, waifish and built like dancers, that Kalibose thought they might be siblings. The collars around their necks looked almost ornamental, inlaid with gold, but Kalibose knew that looks were most certainly deceiving, especially in a magical community. They both bowed to the woman eyeing them critically, but as they did so, something caught his eye that made Kalibose take a horrified step back, then another, until the back of his knees hit a bench and he sat down hard.

They both had arcane tattoos on their backs in purple. They were not just slaves, but magic users.

"They are actually treated very well."

Merrick had appeared behind him from thin air, but Kalibose did not startle. Kalibose shook his head, opening his mouth and trying to find any kind of words as Merrick spoke to him.

"Jeezer, the goblin, has a huge estate within Eldre'thelas and all of the slaves are kept clean, fed, and there are caretakers that tend to them. They lead a very good life: no one is allowed to touch them on pain of death, as they are another person's merchandise. You shouldn't pity them, Kalibose."

There was a rough tone to Merrick's voice, but Kalibose barely registered it. Finally he was able to choke out one word.

"How?"

Merrick looked down at him with a hard look on his face. In that moment Kalibose felt he caught a glimpse of a side of the other apprentice that he had never seen before: the type of person who was addicted to the arcane at the age of six, the type of person who was given to an abusive archmage before he had even hit puberty. The type of person who had seen so much that something like humanoid trafficking was regarded pragmatically and categorized as a way of life.

"This is an outcast society, Kalibose, don't be thick. There is no law here except the law of the archmages and their peers. Don't expect any kind of highbrow morality."

Merrick took a step in front of him until he was the only thing in his vision. He held out his hand to Kalibose, and he took it. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Kalibose let himself be led away from the main area of the vendors. He tried to keep his eyes down from the slave tent as they passed it, but without meaning to, he glanced up. He met the eyes of a male slave, a Kal'dorei. He looked a little older than he did: he had the beginnings of a trimmed beard and his bare chest was muscled. He had an ice blue starburst tattoo in the corner of each eye and a diamond over his left eye, like a mockery of the tattoos the Sentinel women bore. The slave looked at him unabashedly with a steady, blank stare, and Kalibose found that he had stopped moving at all. He was vaguely aware of Merrick saying something heated, and then he was yanked away from the slave's captivating stare. The last thing he saw before Merrick bodily drug him away was the slave's expression change minutely. Instead of aloof neutrality, there was a bit of a spark in his eye, and the tiniest of smirks, barely a curl of lip, which made Kalibose blush from his ears to his shoulders and he dropped his eyes and scurried after Merrick so fast that he almost trampled him.

Together they slipped past the busiest part of the common areas to the shadowy places, where different entrances and exits marked the edges. Here Kalibose saw evidence of his imprisonment as an apprentice: barely visible around each doorway was the same glow that had lit the exit that had given him Mannerel's mark. He assumed, if he passed through the doorway, he'd be caught immediately. Some of his excitement dampened as Merrick led him to one of the corners of common areas. This was obviously an old entrance: half covered with dead vines and the crumbling rock, but still was that glow, and Kalibose could clearly see the purple rune in the uppermost corner. Merrick stopped in front of it and turned around. Kalibose could barely see the hint of a small grin on his face under the shadow of his hood.

"Now, I will show you how to bypass the marking system."

Kalibose watched as he poked around the dead vines that adorned the wall near the exit, until Merrick held up a stick that definitely had not grown there naturally. It was the same thickness and color as the vines, but at the end a tiny double-sided mirror had been fastened. Kalibose nodded his head in appreciation as Merrick carefully held the mirror up to the rune: the spell reflected back into itself and the glow disappeared. Kalibose's grin matched Merrick's as he slipped through the now safe exit, and Merrick followed, carefully holding the mirror up until the last moment before moving it onto the opposite side and stashing it among the vines. Once it was removed, the door continued glowing.

"You can't take too long going through, no more than one or two people at a time, but you can do that to almost every doorway. And now we are free for the afternoon."

They had picked up the first hot meal available in the commons, fresh lemon bread and a hunk of cheese, and holding the paper tightly, they ran along the crumbling stone passageways, dodging places where the rocks had fallen down in the way and climbing up on top of the wall to skip along the top. Merrick took the lead, but Kalibose could see that there was so much space up here, twists and turns and little nooks and crannies to climb and hide in, that they could wander the entire rest of the day and not run out of room. They could also clearly see the sky from out here. They would be able to make it back in plenty of time. The sun was directly overhead as Merrick led them higher and higher, away from Eldre'thelas proper, and closer to the ogre arena of Dire Maul.

If Eldre'thelas was the hidden backroom of mage society, Dire Maul was the storefront of normality. The archmages and the ogres had an agreement; the ogres would not delve into the secret passageways and courtyards of the mage city, and the mages would keep all of their experiments away from their arena. Kalibose assumed at least a little magical subterfuge was used in the agreement: no one would approach the city with the ogres protecting it, and the mages took every advantage of that natural protection. Perched on the very top of the tallest spire above the arena, Kalibose watched the ogres below in disgusted fascination. They were huge brutish things, and every now and then he and Merrick would get a whiff of their pungent smell. But those incidences were minor compared to the dizzying longing for the freedom that was so close they could almost imagine it was possible.

"I wish we could stay up here."

Kalibose didn't realize he had even said it out loud until Merrick turned to look at him. He had only eaten half of his lunch before giving the rest to him, and now sat with his arms around his knees and his hood drawn over his face in quiet contemplation. Kalibose could just barely see a hint of blue light around the other apprentice's eye as he spoke.

"This is one of my favorite places. No one can get you up here."

Kalibose watched him for a long moment. So much had happened in the last year, and so much more in the last 24 hours. The thought of what might yet to come, even in the next few days, made his head spin. There was no stability in his life at all, except for pain, and this completely unpredictable friend that he had no idea how he felt about anymore. The question, when he asked it, held a bit of that despair in it.

"What are we going to do next, Merrick?"

Merrick tilted his head slightly, just so he could see him, then turned completely around. There wasn't much room at all to move up here on this spire, but he crawled on his hands and knees so that he was squeezed in beside Kalibose, shoulder to shoulder. The weight and warmth of him was a comfort, whether he wanted it to be or not. He could hear Merrick's breathing, shallow and light, as he leaned closer to him, close enough that he could actually see his face in the shadow of his hood. Merrick cracked a tiny half smile, and held up his hand.

"I am going to throw this conjured snowball at that ogre. Want to watch?"

Kalibose nodded his head, forcing a grin onto his face. As soon as Merrick leaned past him to throw the snowball, the grin fell as he felt the impact of what Merrick said. He wondered in a detached manner if he would ever get a straight answer out of him, something to hold onto rather than a failing hope. He watched Merrick whoop as an ogre far below jumped and looked around as if his companions had thrown it instead. With some effort, he made his own snowball in his hand, and joined in the fun while it lasted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: I kind of finished this in a rush this evening, so if there are errors, I apologize. Three more chapters.**

* * *

"I don't understand why this isn't working."

Kalibose squinted his eyes at the spellbook in front of him until the runes danced before his eyes. It still didn't reveal why the circle they were casting could not be made mobile, or why it was limited to such a small space. He pinched the bridge of his nose against an encroaching headache. It had been two weeks since the trip to Eldre'thelas, and they had made absolutely no progress on protection spells. He scowled crossly at Merrick, who was idly setting bits of brush on fire beside him. No thanks at all to him.

Whatever had happened in the upper rooms with the Archmage, Kalibose was pretty sure he would never hear the whole story. But what he did know was that Merrick was changed somehow. He was more distant. He had lost some of his passion for magic: he had several times declined doing spellwork late at night, and then had disappeared for hours at a time with no explanation. Before when he did this, he would come back with a new magical artifact or something else acquired during his absence. But now he gave nothing but distracted silence. The most emotion Kalibose had gotten out of him was when he had asked him to utilize his newfound amplifying power on the protective circle, and Merrick had stared at him with flashing eyes. ("I can't just use it by myself, it takes a bond, you idiot. Why don't you use your fancy-ass tattoos? Can't, can you?")

Merrick must have felt his eyes on him, because he snuffed his latest fire between his hands and scooted closer.

"I don't think you are going to get anything out of that book that you haven't already."

His leg was pressed up against his and it was horribly distracting. There was a minute flash of electric blue as he met his eyes under the hood of his cloak. "Now we have to get creative."

Kalibose shut the book in disgust, more to give his hands something to do than anything else. "We have been creative. We have tried this circle inside out, backwards, and standing on our heads. It's not going to work. We need something else."

Merrick hummed in an absent-minded manner as he took the book from him. Kalibose watched him as he ran his finger over the spine of the book and then the edges. He wasn't really doing anything to help-he was just here, with him, and it was simultaneously comforting and made him want to crawl out of his skin. In fact, most things made him want to crawl out of his skin lately: he wasn't sure whether it was his magical tattoos in juxtaposition with Merrick's magical tattoos, or just the other apprentice himself, but he found himself more restless than ever. It made his days long and his nights longer: on the nights that he would sleep, he would wake abruptly, his mind racing and his heart fit to burst from his chest. Most nights though, he didn't sleep at all, and the day slipped into the next with no break and no relief. That was his reason for being out here right now: he didn't know if he'd ever get the protection circle right or for that matter, anything to help him out of this situation. But casting calmed him: feeling the magic move through him scratched the itches inside of him that he didn't even know he had. Some days, when it was dark outside and darker inside of him, he thought that would be all that he would ever had, and that was enough for him.

Abruptly, he pushed himself to standing and and stretched. Sitting up against Merrick made it worse, and he needed to move again. He paced back and forth a few times on the small balcony, then glanced up at the sky. One corner of it was getting lighter than the rest; dawn was approaching. They could always see it earlier up here where the sky stretched out for miles in all directions. They technically had over an hour left before call, but they had already gotten a whole lot of nothing done that night, and wouldn't get anything else done in that time. He sighed, already thinking through how to waste the time laying in bed.

"Let's go in."

Merrick followed him without protest, carrying the book and his mind on another planet.

The call came at the normal time, but Kalibose was already awake waiting for it. He ended up being one of the first in line to head over to the laboratory, and Lorenath gave him a strange look as he led the way down the hallway.

He could tell as soon as he walked through the doorway that something was very, _very_ wrong.

Just like in the upper rooms above, all the alchemy tables had been pushed to the side so that there was a large empty space in the middle. Darien and Tiranen were on their knees and appeared to be painting runes on the floor. The Archmage had his back to everyone, but as soon as they were all in, he turned around with a flourish. Behind them, the doors slammed shut and Kalibose jumped.

"Good morning, my illustrious pupils! Today promises to be a breakthrough day, a most important day!"

Mannerel appeared to be completely thrilled with himself and it made Kalibose feel ill to his stomach. He paced slowly in front of the dais as the apprentices huddled together in a group. Kalibose sensed Merrick slip up beside him: his electrifying presence was unmistakable.

"I have been working nearly nonstop on a revolutionary spell. One that will have applications across Azeroth. One that already has some very interested buyers contacting me. But I am not the sole person responsible for this."

To his horror, Archmage Mannerel gestured to him and it was like a spotlight was shining down. Kalibose froze, pinned to the spot with the looks of his fellow apprentices. The only person who was not looking at him was Merrick. The other apprentice was staring past Mannerel, to the dais, with a terrifying blank look on his face. Kalibose had seen that look before, and tried to look past the Archmage to see what Merrick saw.

"Our very own Kalibose, whom I rescued from the dreadful beasts of Stonetalon. Kalibose, abandoned by his family and banished from his homeland. Look what your magnificent hands have helped wrought."

It was hard to see, but directly behind the Archmage was a faintly glowing cylinder that went all the way up to the ceiling. It might have even gone through the ceiling, but at that moment the Archmage took a step out of the way and gestured to it. At the bottom of the cylinder huddled a tiny figure. Kalibose felt ice start in the pit of his stomach and go all the way down his legs. The child, because that's who it was, stood up and put their hands on the sides of the magical enclosure. It was all rags, dirty purple skin, teal hair, and huge, scared eyes, and Kalibose knew he had to run, knew he had to escape this monstrous event unfolding in front of him, but his legs were frozen to the ground, and his intelligent thought had completely evaporated. Somewhere behind him, he heard a horrified gasp. Mannerel strode up to the magical cylinder and tapped on it as if it were glass. The child shrank away from him and closed their eyes.

"Don't you see, Kalibose, how alive and well our little friend is? He endured indescribable pain, and woke a few hours later with no side effects. The spell was a complete success."

Without turning around, the Archmage made a gesture behind him. "All the exits are sealed, Merrick. There is no way out."

Kalibose unfroze enough to see Merrick standing beside the side door that led to the storage rooms. He hadn't noticed him slipping away, but apparently the Archmage did. He turned around and gave Merrick a winning smile before gesturing to him again.

"And you are going to help perfect the spell, you traitorous little bastard."

Merrick yelped as he was drug slowly forward by Mannerel's magic. Kalibose tried somewhere inside of him to find that fighting spirit that had pushed him before, but it was too overwhelmed to be useful. He felt a compulsion to walk forward, and although he tried to resist, he found himself taking one step, then another, until he was climbing up onto the dais and standing next to Merrick. Merrick, for all his bravado, for all his excitement at having a magic-infused tattoo, stood stock still, his eyes closed and tears running down his face silently. Mannerel had one hand on his face, and he put the other on Kalibose's shoulder.

Almost instantly Kalibose felt a shock of power unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was the arcane: it was bitter and made the inside of his mouth dry, and he felt again that strong revulsion like the last time Mannerel had made him cast the spell against the boy. But this time it was tempered with something else. Something fiery, something quick and intelligent and scrappy and something that smelled of ozone and looked like almost black hair and too-bright eyes, felt like desperation and tasted like tears. He realized, at the same time that the magic hit his system too hard and fast and made him retch violently to the side, that the Archmage was powering the spell with the amplifier that was Merrick. He was literally infused in the spell: he heard the other apprentice cry out as his body was used as a battery, as a power cable, as something that a mortal being, and especially an adolescent, should never be used as. And then every other thought left Kalibose's head, because he could feel the first shooting pain that was sent through him to the victim of their spell, and the child started to scream.

After what felt like hours later, long after the child had collapsed sobbing onto the ground and Kalibose felt as if he would never be clean again, Mannerel eased them out of the spell. Kalibose leaned onto his knees, tasting vomit in his throat and gasping for air. He barely caught a glimpse of Merrick fainting dead away onto the ground. Kalibose was more than worn out and disgusted this time though: he was angry. He panted, feeling a fire start in the middle of his chest, and when the Archmage pivoted on his feet to survey the damage wrought by his spell, he stood abruptly and swung. He knew that fighting magic with fists was useless, but he did not care. He had been violated, other people had been used, children had been hurt. He wanted to hit the Archmage until there was nothing left of his face. He put every ounce of his anger into his swing, and felt some residual arcane left in his system accent it as well.

Faster than he thought was possible, the Archmage turned and caught his hand with his own. He held it casually, as if it was nothing to restrain a raging apprentice with violence on his mind. Instead of tossing him away, Mannerel pulled him closer, until Kalibose was caught about the chest with one arm, and by the hand with the other. The Archmage smiled his sickening smile, and Kalibose thought he might vomit again.

"Oh Kalibose. You don't understand."

On the floor beside him, he heard Merrick moan as he regained consciousness. Mannerel glanced down at him, then back to Kalibose. He spoke only a few inches from his face.

"You will never escape me. None of you do. I _own_ you."

The older man pulled back, studying him for a moment. Kalibose felt his stomach drop to the floor.

"I've been rethinking the state of your face. Soon you will be mine completely."

Without warning Mannerel let him go. Kalibose stumbled at the sudden lack of support. He stared at the back of the mage's cloak as he strode purposefully from the dais, down the steps, and out the door, which was magically open again. Kalibose glanced to where the child had finally given up consciousness, and saw that he was gone. Slowly he sunk to the ground, wrapped his arms around himself, and shook.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: This is almost over, I promise. Two more chapters. Also, I am so sorry.**

* * *

Abruptly, Mae thrust Amaryssa into his arms and ran into the other room. Kalibose fumbled with her blanket, only half his mind in the present time and the other half fuzzy with dredged up memories.

"...Mae? Mae!"

He got Amaryssa balanced in his arms and slid off the bed to run after her. He didn't have to go far; their apartment was barely big enough to hold their meager belongings, let alone hiding places. She was standing in the bathroom, arms braced against the counter. Her hair was draped over her face but Kalibose could see how tense her muscles were across her back, and how tightly she gripped the edge of the sink. He swallowed hard and his voice croaked as he spoke.

"...Mae?"

"Did he do it?"

Her voice was quiet and he was so taken back by the intensity of it that he missed the point of the question.

"Are you-"

"Did he actually-"

She choked over the words as if they were rocks in her mouth. She shook her head, and kept talking.

"Because if he did, by Elune, I have never felt this much violence toward a person before. To keep children locked away, beat them, starve them, but then-"

She did choke this time, as if the words lodged in her throat. Kalibose shifted Amaryssa to one arm and put his other hand on her shoulder.

"Mae. It's okay. I am right here. I am okay."

Her face, when she lifted it, was covered in tears.

"But not then. You weren't then. And neither were so many other children."

Her voice broke and with it her control. Kalibose felt his own tears start from deep inside, somewhere deep in his chest. He pulled her into an awkward one-armed hold, his elbow near the center of her back and his hand gently cradling her head against him. She shook with the enormity of her tears, and it took an immense effort for him to keep talking.

"It's alright, Mae. He didn't get to me. Not like-" He swallowed a huge lump down, but it didn't seem to help.

"Not like he had Merrick."

For some reason this made her cry harder. He held her tight against him, hushing her as he let her cry herself out. He felt empty inside, as if the tears drug the emotions out of him and spilled them on the floor of their tiny bathroom. After what felt like a lifetime, her tears slowed and she lifted her head. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and gently rubbed his hand across her upper back. She sniffed loudly, but she did not retreat from his arms.

"Sorry for shoving Amaryssa at you."

Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her.

"It's alright, love."

For a moment he thought she was going to start crying again, but she seemed to catch herself and instead laid her cheek against his chest. They stood there for a moment, the only sound being Amaryssa's tiny sleepy noises and the occasional sniffle. Kalibose wondered briefly what time it was. He lightly stroked Mae's hair.

"Do you want me to finish? I don't have to if it's going to upset you."

"Yes." There was no hesitation in her voice. "I have to hear the conclusion."

"Alright." He took her hand, and led her back into the bedroom. From the closet, he barely felt the hum of K'vaat where he did not get the anti-magic cover over it properly. It felt almost encouraging.

Amaryssa was still sleeping, so he wrapped her up securely and laid her down in her bed. He sat down on the bed across from Mae, and took her hands in his. He carefully brushed his thumbs against her palms. She had old callouses from training with her staff, but the top layer of them had faded from lack of practice. Her hands were a mixture of rough and soft, and he held them as reverently as he had held their daughter.

"Do you want me to hold you while I continue?" She nodded, and without speaking crawled into his lap, almost more like a child than his mate. She buried her face in the crook of his arm and wound her hand into his. He lightly stroked her hair with his free hand as he spoke.

"This is not going to end how you think it is, I believe. I should apologize for that."

He took a deep breath.

"Whatever we had accomplished that day, between the Archmage using both Merrick and I at the same time, it created something unlike anything he had used before. He disappeared the rest of the day to study it, Merrick vanished, and I was left alone to process whatever I could. As you might imagine, I took myself to bed and hid."


	13. Chapter 13

No one bothered him after Kalibose had ran pell mell back to the bunk room, tears in his eyes and his hands clenched into tight fists. It was a good thing they didn't: his nerves were stretched so raw and thin that if anyone had said something to him, even a word of teasing, he would have engulfed them in arcane flames instantly. He stayed there all day, trying to think of absolutely nothing. Nothing was safe. It didn't require him to think of the past, present, or especially the future. It was only when the call came for supper that he realized that Merrick had never returned from the laboratory.

This information, more than anything else, finally drug him out of bed. He made it to the place where they ate to find a few scraps of bread left, but nothing of any substance, and no Merrick. He left the hall, chewing absently, and continued down to all the places that he was allowed to go. The laboratory door was closed. The magical door that led to the courtyard and Eldre'thelas proper wasn't there at all, and Kalibose passed by it with barely a glance. He looped around, blocked by the hallways that seemingly went nowhere, and headed back to the bunkroom. Some apprentices were there now, either getting ready for bed, talking in small groups, or reading. They all ignored him, and he them. They weren't important.

Merrick was not in his bunk. He wasn't in the bottom bunk either. Kalibose paused for a moment, remembering the time that they had fallen asleep together in his bed. It was the only time that Merrick had come to sleep with him, instead of vice a versa. He rubbed his fingertips together and remembered the feeling of the arcane earlier that had been tempered with Merrick's energy. He could feel it, even now: that reckless sensation of fiery desperation that burned too hot, too fast. It hovered underneath his skin like a muscle memory, and hesitantly, he snapped his fingers to create a spark. The feeling grew more intense: if Kalibose was not able to see clearly all around him, he would swear that the other apprentice was standing right beside him, adding his power to the spell. He extinguished the fire, feeling a sudden sense of loss. He needed to find him.

He went into the lavatory and straight to the exit onto the parapets. He wasn't used to going up by himself, and he took greater care to shimmy his way out of the window and up onto the stone embankment. It was a little harder to get out the window than before, and he was suddenly struck by the idea that he had grown since the first time he had made the trek above. He glanced down at his feet: his robes were definitely sitting a few inches higher than before. The air around him gave off the smell of spring: late evening humidity and the air hanging on to warmth even as the sun went down. It was very likely that he had been here an entire year: he had at the very least, passed from the age of 15 to 16. The thought was so ludicrous that he almost started laughing, all alone up on the stone parapet with twilight darkening the sky and native birds shrieking in the jungle below. He shook off the feeling and started searching the roof.

Over an hour later in an area that he had never been before, he admitted to himself Merrick wasn't up here. He sat down on a crate, his head in his hands, and realized that he was shaking. He took in a breathe, and ran his hands through his hair.

Merrick had disappeared before, this was nothing new. He was certainly able to go more than a few hours without seeing him, that was obvious. So why was he so panicked, as if the other apprentice had left the planet entirely?

As restless as he had been the last few weeks, it was nothing compared to how jumpy he felt as he climbed back down into the communal bathrooms. He felt like every inch of his skin was electrified, just looking for an outlet. Even the short walk from the bathroom to the bunkroom was enough to make him fidget. He snapped, feeling sparks fling out into the air as he made one last sweep of the bunkroom before heading to his bed. With every spark, he got a hit of what he considered essence of Merrick, and it only made his absence even more apparent.

Finally, with nowhere else to check and no other excuses to delay it, he went to bed.

The call came late the next morning. Kalibose thought that Merrick might sneak in after hours, and he was positive he stayed awake all night waiting on him. He certainly saw the sun rose, as he lay in bed setting loose threads of his comforter on fire one by one. With each flame, he felt a brief memory of Merrick, but even he had to admit that by the time Lorenath came into the bunkroom, looking as if he had been up most of the night, the feeling was starting to fade.

"Alright you little pukes," the older apprentice began without his usual smugness. Kalibose glanced up, not knowing what was going on and finding it even harder to care. Lorenath ran a hand through his tousled hair and cleared his throat.

"So yeah, Eldre'thalas today, don't get lost, don't run off. You know the drill."

A wave of confusion went through the bunkroom. They had just gone to Eldre'thelas a couple weeks ago, and now they were going again? Lorenath gritted his teeth at their lack of movement.

"Are you deaf? Get the fuck out of here!"

The apprentices as a collective made a move to get out of bed. Kalibose felt the first flicker of emotion he had had in the past twelve hours and stared at Lorenath as the other apprentices hurried to put their shoes on and line up. The older apprentice looked worse than he had ever seen him: red-rimmed eyes and oily, tousled silver hair as if he had ran his hands though it a thousand times and no longer cared. He kept wiping a hand across his face as if he was trying to keep his mind on task and was just barely succeeding. Kalibose slowly joined the other apprentices at the end of the line, filled with dark curiosity. Lorenath didn't look at anyone as they walked past, but just as Kalibose was about to slip through to join them, he snaked a hand out and grabbed him by the neck of his robe. Kalibose yelped in spite of himself as Lorenath's slightly crazed eyes focused on him.

"Look, if you see your boyfriend around..." he blinked too long, and almost stumbled. Kalibose realized for a wild moment that Lorenath no longer had to bend over so far to look him in the eye. The other apprentice looked at him hard, then thought better of it and sneered as he dropped him back to the ground.

"Why don't you punch him for me in his fucking perfect face?"

Kalibose stumbled after the other apprentices, and Lorenath aimed a half-assed kick in his direction, but right before he hit the glowing doorway, he turned back. Lorenath had crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back against the stone wall and appeared to be asleep. Kalibose frowned as he went through the doorway and felt the familiar jolt as he was marked with the symbol of Mannerel. Something was going on, and he was tired of being in the dark about it.

The weather was as dreary as his thoughts as he entered the courtyard to Eldre'thelas. The last time, the outcast elven city had felt exotic and exciting. This time the atmosphere was almost oppressive as he idly wound his way up the stairs. The vendors seemed desperate to ignore the threat of rain in the low hanging clouds and talked more animatedly, waving their products around in high ranking mages' faces. They for the most part ignored him as he swiped his marked hand and grabbed something wrapped in paper at random to eat. He held it loosely and finally forced himself to care enough to decide to eat his lunch away from everyone. He would go to the very top parapet like before, and maybe if he was lucky, relax enough to take a nap and forget life. Holding onto that thought like a timid hope, he turned his feet to the main road that would take him to the level above then to one of the secret doors that led away from the city.

He didn't see him at first.

Kalibose walked with his hood pulled up and his eyes cast to the ground, intent on making it out of the main thoroughfare without speaking to anyone. He skirted around a particularly lavish vendor tent selling silks and ungracefully ran right into an archmage haggling tersely with the seller. He stumbled backward, his hands up and an apology on his lips, when his hand contacted bare skin and his senses exploded around him. There were blue sparks in his vision, electricity in his skin, bitterness and tears on his tongue, and by Elune so much _emotion_ slammed into him at once that he felt he could barely stand.

Yearning.

Desperation.

Fear.

Guilt.

And the last, impossible to name, but simultaneously an ache in his heart and a warmth in the pit of his belly.

It all happened in less than a second, and all he could do was let out a pained gasp before a hand loosely encircled his wrist and a voice spoke.

"Mistress, might I speak to my former classmate in private?"

A voice above them, simultaneously sultry and rough, grunted in irritation at being interrupted. The archmage that he had accidentally stumbled into gave them a brief look, then turned and pointed to a stone bench a few yards away.

"Stay on that bench. You know you can't get far."

"Yes Mistress."

He was pulled toward the bench and Kalibose stumbled, still in the wake of his discovery.

Merrick.

Merrick, that he obviously was now connected to on a deep and profound level, that he couldn't even touch without being flooded with his essence.

Merrick, who pushed him down on the bench unceremoniously and glanced around nervously before sitting himself. Kalibose spoke before he could clear his throat, his voice pitching higher than he intended.

"Did you feel that? It can't be just-"

"Shut up, damn you!"

Merrick made a move to put his hand over his mouth, then thought better of it. He reached up to scratch around his neck, and Kalibose was suddenly hit with several things at once. First of all, Merrick was not wearing his apprentice robes. Different students wore different things, but the vast majority wore a hooded robe of some sort in a nondescript color. Merrick was wearing considerably less than that. He wore a kilt of fine red silk and a black sash, gold bands around his upper arms, and not much else. His dark hair, which he had always kept tucked under his hood, was fluffy and wild about his long ears. In the sparse daylight, he could actually see the color now; it was not in fact black, but very dark blue.

It was not his clothes or his hair that gave Kalibose such a shock, however, but the thin band of gold around his neck that Merrick was scratching at. The one that matched the slaves only a few tents over.

"What the hell did you-"

"For the love of Elune lower your voice!"

Merrick gripped his arm tightly, digging his fingernails in. Kalibose complied, his mind whirling over a thousand possibilities. Merrick was in hiding. The gold band was a gimmick. The way he was dressed was a glamour of some sort. Something, anything at all except the obvious fact that Merrick had sold himself into-

"It's not what you think."

Relief prematurely started to flood through Kalibose's body as the other boy spoke.

"It's an agreement, nothing more. Seven years of slavery and then freedom, no strings attached."

Kalibose breathed hard, not even sure if this was the correct reality that he was in anymore. His voice sounded like it came from someone else when he spoke.

"How is that any different than what I think? What happened to being bound to no one?"

"This is my choice, Kalibose!"

Merrick's face was screwed up with intensity and he stabbed a finger into his chest as he whispered angrily in his face.

"I have bartered for my safety. I got away from Mannerel. This is a good arrangement, Kalibose, and in seven years, Lady Arloriel has promised to take the restraints off my amplifier and I will be truly free."

His face twisted cruelly as he sneered. "Where are you at, Kalibose? You are still a pawn in his games. I am moving past you."

His barb hurt, but for once, it didn't bring Kalibose to his knees. "Trading one master for another is not freedom, Merrick. This is not a good idea."

He felt tears start in his eyes and he bit the inside of his mouth in anger, willing them away as he glanced over to where the other archmage was still bartering with the silk vendor. He couldn't look at Merrick as he spoke.

"So this is it, then?"

Merrick took a shuddering breath, and despite himself, Kalibose glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. His eyes were on his hands clenched together in his lap.

"It has to be. Lady Arloriel can't know of the magical bond between us. She thinks that she will be the only one to use my amplifier. We both know that wouldn't be the case if you were around, Kalibose."

"I suppose not."

 _Magical bond._ Of course that was all it was. Kalibose felt a hysterical giggle in the middle of his chest and in horror, tried to shove it down. How desperately, _irreparably_ stupid of him. Merrick glanced over to his mistress sharply.

"She's almost done. Look Kalibose, look at me for a moment."

He gripped his shoulders, and in spite of his heart breaking to pieces inside of him, he complied. All the cruelty had melted from Merrick's face, replaced by earnestness, and Kalibose wanted to believe him, more than anything else.

"You can get away from him. You don't need me to help you: you never did. You only need yourself. Don't stop trying. Get away, find your own power."

"Wrap it up, boy, we have more shopping to do."

Lady Arloriel's voice cut through them so sharply Kalibose flinched. Merrick's eyes fluttered closed briefly, and when he opened them to speak to her, he was a different person.

"Yes, of course, Mistress. Your color choice on that robe is impeccable. Only, didn't you mention that you needed a new sash as well? A vibrant purple, I think, would go well with that crimson."

Lady Arloriel narrowed her eyes at the two of them and Kalibose tensed. "If you think that it is not obvious you are buying more time, you are mistaken. You have five minutes while I order a sash."

The instant she turned back to hail the silk vendor, Kalibose felt hands on his face, turning him back to him. The instant their skin touched, his senses were on fire again as their magic clashed. This only took his attention for a moment, however, because Merrick pressed his mouth to his and kissed him, and that was _everything._

It was over too soon and not soon enough: Merrick broke away from him, leaving his soul raw and his lips numb. Kalibose held still, tears running freely down his face now and unable to do anything else.

"I am...so sorry." If he hadn't been inches from the other boy's face, he wouldn't have heard him at all. Kalibose tried to swallow and failed.

"What am I going to do without you?"

Merrick smiled then, the first one he had seen in weeks, and that was worse than anything else. He leaned back from him, and Kalibose knew that this was it. He was never going to see him again.

"You don't need me."

And then his hands were gone from his skin, and he was walking away. Kalibose watched, through a curtain of tears, as he stood attentively next to Lady Arloriel as she finished her purchase, and followed behind her as she moved on to finish her shopping, his head held high and not a trace of the emotion that he had just shown him. Kalibose stared at his back as they made their way through the crowd, until he wove gracefully between two other mages and he was lost from sight.

Kalibose closed his eyes and felt that his chest would tear apart with how much it hurt. How could anything hurt like this and not strike him dead?

The other patrons of Eldre'thelas passed him by, the vendors hawked their wares, and life in general went on around him. All it did was remind him of how completely, utterly, alone he was in the world. No family, no friends, no one to care about him at all.

For the first time though, he didn't let this crush him. He grabbed ahold of his solitude, twisted it sharp inside of him, and felt anger fortify his soul. He sat up straight and wiped a hand across his face, then abruptly stood from the bench and strode purposefully into the crowd.

Merrick was right. He didn't need him. He didn't need anyone.

There was work to be done, and he was the only one to do it.

* * *

The call came for him at midnight, just as he expected. Kalibose was sitting in what used to be Merrick's bunk waiting for them. The three of them looked terrible: Lorenath looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep for several days, Tiranen was jittery, and Darien just looked pissed at the entire world. They hadn't even said anything before Kalibose climbed down to join them. Lorenath snorted at him, and the four of them left the bunkroom. Kalibose kept his hands tucked in his robes as he followed them silently out the door, down the hallway, and up the stairs. He didn't even flinch as he walked through the red room and pushed the curtain aside himself for the Archmage's inner sanctum. Mannerel was in the middle of casting, and stopped with an angry curse.

"Useless!" He threw his victim against the wall. Kalibose saw that it was one of the other apprentices, one of the newer ones. He lay in a pile of crumpled robes on the floor, and he doubted that he would get up again. Kalibose ignored him as he strode towards the Archmage. The older man glanced his direction and ran his wrinkled hands through his tangled hair.

"Ah, Kalibose. Just in time. You might have noticed by now that we are missing a certain member of our company. I am having, ah, difficulty, finding a replacement, but I think you'll be able to help me with that."

Archmage Mannerel wiped his hands off on a towel sitting on the restraint table, and gestured to him. Kalibose felt the tug of his magic as he compelled him forward, but it was under his own power that Kalibose approached the raised dais. He saw other apprentices chained around the circle. He ignored them. Mannerel shuffled papers around on his table, but as soon as Kalibose stepped foot on the dais he stiffened. Kalibose stopped, his hands held in front of him, hidden from sight by his long sleeves. The Archmage whipped around, his voice more terrible and angry than he had ever heard it. Energy crackled around him as he spoke.

"What...have...you...done!?"

Kalibose took his hands out of his sleeves. Still bleeding, still painful, burning on the back of his hands, was the protection rune. It glowed defiantly as the Archmage strode toward him, trying to control him from afar and finding his spell useless.

"I am leaving."

He saw the three older apprentices rush toward him as the Archmage tried more and more powerful mind controls on him. He waited until the last moment, then he opened his hands. Inside was a condensed ball of arcane energy, the spell he and Merrick had been trying so hard to perfect months ago. As soon as the four of them reached him, he threw it to the ground with a shout. It exploded around them, blinding him with light.

Kalibose blinked, willing his sight back. He felt drained of power, but he looked around him in triumph: both the Archmage and all three of the older apprentices were lying flat on their backs away from the epicenter of the combustion, unconscious. He panted, feeling almost giddy with relief. He stepped over the the blackened spot on the stonework and stood in front of the Archmage. Without his magic, he looked like nothing more than a frail old man.

"Consider this my resignation, you fucking asshole."

He turned, and without a backward glance, walked away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes: Here we have the end. I hope you understand a bit more about how and why Kalibose is so cranky at the beginning of Outcast, and that I have answered as many questions as possible.**

* * *

Unlike the last time Kalibose's voice drifted off, Mae did not speak. She could tell that his story was done, and it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room in his memories. She reached over and gently took her mate's hands. He had been rubbing the protection rune on one hand with the other, but he let her stop him. As she touched his skin, she got a flash of everything he wasn't telling her: how deep Merrick's leaving hurt him, how he had cut himself off emotionally the entire rest of his training. Flashes of intense anger and reshaping his goals into only being the best at what he was, dedicating his life to magic and trying to fight off the loneliness of being in a society of people that were all alone. It was only a few seconds, but she could feel even more succinctly than she had before, how horrible his youth was and how it changed him. There were only a few questions she had left, and as he sat, staring off into a corner of the room quietly, she prodded him gently.

"What happened after you left Mannerel's service?"

"It wasn't hard to slip away, once I no longer had a reason to stay." He surprised her by answering immediately. "It's funny now that I think about it, but he didn't have a lot holding us there. It was intimidation, really."

He stood abruptly and strode to the closet. He pulled the anti-magic cover off of his staff. Mae caught a faint purple glow from the naaru as he paused and turned back to her with an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm sorry Mae, but can I...?"

She nodded her head. Even more than his magical addiction, she knew that the presence of K'vaat had turned into a sort of companion to him, almost a friend. He picked up the staff, and his eyes glowed briefly as he took it back over to her and laid the staff on the bed beside them. He laughed mirthlessly to himself, his eyes on his hands in his lap.

"All I feel inside is empty. That didn't touch it at all. As much as I have spent my life looking for something to fill this empty void, its only superficial. You," he finally met her eyes, and she almost gasped, they were so haunted, "and Amaryssa, are the only ones that have come close. Funny how you chase something until you finally corner it, and the solution is completely the opposite of what you have always wanted."

She reached over and laid a hand on his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes. She had so many questions now burning inside of her, but she tried to keep them there. It was still, even almost thirty years since they had first met, a rare thing for him to tell her what he was feeling, especially without prompting. She scooted closer on the bed and put her other arm around him.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Love you too."

They spent a few moments in quiet, and Mae felt a little too warm, a little too sleepy, and was really struggling against the fact that they had stayed up almost all night before he spoke again.

"After I escaped Mannerel's facilities, I found my way back to Eldre'thelas. I hid out for a few days, scouting out the other archmages and watching out for Lorenath and the others. I was positive that the Archmage was going to try and hunt me down, but he never did come find me. In the end, I probably had more of an attachment to him than he ever did to me. Pretty soon, I found an archmage that would take me in, and that was not as terrible as he was. Crazy, yes, and power hungry enough that he welcomed someone in with my abilities with no questions asked, but not sadistic, and the most I had to worry about was the other apprentices pulling stupid pranks. It didn't matter to me though, because I was done making friends. All I did was study and practice, and by the time I took my final trials, I wasn't very well liked. "

He took a deep breath, and Mae saw out of a corner of the window, that the sky was starting to turn more grey than black outside.

"You know that a few years before you found me, the arcane was no longer illegal in Kal'dorei lands. I was not aware of this, but I realize now that it coincided with a massive inquisition into Eldre'thelas. Mannerel and a few others of less moral fortitude were ousted from the facility. During the inquisition, while he was packing up to leave, his apprentices apparently ganged up on him and he was found slaughtered and placed inside his upper rooms. I wanted to feel happy about it, but all it did was make me feel worse. It was as if everything that had happened, all the cruelty and the torture, now didn't have any proof. He was gone. The apprentices scattered and the facilities were given to someone else. To the rest of the world, his reign did not exist."

"I...I tried to look for Merrick. The things I found out about Lady Arloriel were not pleasant, and I went back and forth a few times before finally giving up. I did keep going up to the highest parapet above the ogre city to study, to think, to hide from the world. I never saw him again."

One of Mae's questions escaped her before she could catch it.

"Do you think he made it out?"

Kalibose leaned away from her, but only to glance out the window himself.

"I truly have no idea. But I will say this, if he did, he is not the same person that I once knew. And I don't know if I would want to meet that person."

Mae heard the first rustles from the cradle across the room, and they both got up at the same time. He handed her a diaper, she changed her, and as she picked Amaryssa up, still partially asleep, Kalibose put his arms around them both.

"I don't have to work today. Do you want to just try and sleep for a bit? The three of us?" He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't think I've ever been this tired."

She smiled at him and grabbed his hand to pull him toward the bed. She laid down, got Amaryssa tucked in beside her, and Kalibose leaned his staff against the wall before curling up behind her, his arm around her waist and his nose buried in her hair. He was asleep almost immediately, and she took a moment to stroke his hand. She made herself look at the designs on it: dark purple, striking, exotic. A history and a curse in each line and swoop. The ones on his knuckles were perfect, but the circle on the back of his hand, now that she took a moment to examine it, was a little rougher, as if it were made by a novice. Slowly, so not to wake him, she pulled his hand up to kiss it. There was a flutter in her vision, just a blink, but for the first time, she completely ignored it and snuggled down deeper into the blankets and fell asleep.

* * *

 **End Note: Thank you for joining me on this journey to Kalibose's past. If you want to read more about Kalibose and his little family, I suggest looking into Outcast and Inkwells and Lotus Blossoms. To read the beginning of all of my stories, look at Scepter. For those of you that are regulars, we will now be going 100 percent into Lingers now to get it cranked out before December. Winter's Tale ends phase 1 of my fanfictions: all the backstories and the past. Lingers starts phase two, which will last two years.**


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